Not exactly the ugly duckling
by Pillow Bosom
Summary: Helga-Arnold... of course! 4 years after graduation, everybody else has moved on, but Helga is still waiting for something to happen to her. M for language and eventual lemons. I don't own Hey Arnold. Obviously.
1. Chapter 1

The thing about Helga, was that she _could_ have turned into the swan, but she just didn't want to.

By the time her class graduated from High School, she was the tallest girl in her year. '_All legs and scowl'_ her father said, sneering at her as he passed her on the stairs.

Things hadn't gotten better after school. Once _beepers_ were obsolete, her father had turned his hand to cell phones. Then her mother died of pancreatic cancer. Not particularly surprising, seeing as the old lady had been pickling herself from the inside out for years. Helga was _still_unearthing her mother's old vodka bottles from their various hiding places.

The house was dead now. It hadn't been that lively to begin with, but it was now a tomb. Helga could go days without seeing her father. And she preferred it that way. A mean, fat old man, that's all he was.

She was working at the local offices of a major cell phone provider, a job she had gotten by regurgitating her fathers cell-phone-salesman bullshit. She had started in reception, but had gradually worked her way up to being the PA to the general manager. As was the case with most admin staff, she knew the company inside out, and could have done her bosses job with her eyes shut. But management was as old-boys club, and Helga wasn't a boy.

On this particular Thursday night, Helga missed her bus. For once, the public transports service was on time, and she had stepped out of her offices buildings, only to see her bus go screaming down the street, feet from where she stood.

_Shit. _She thought to herself. If she hadn't spend those last few minutes putting together the projected sales for the next quarter…

Helga strode to the bus stop, and stood square in front of the timetable. Her shoulders were tense. She wasn't really busy, she wouldn't be missing anything by waiting at the bus stop for an extra twenty minutes… but she hated to feed inactive… she hated waiting.

She was a _long_ girl. Her teen aged gangly-ness had grown into slim elegance. She was among the tallest in her office, much to the chagrin of her manager, who had to look up at her to put her down. She tried to compensate, to wear cuffed shirts, tucked into man-cut long pants, and she never, ever wore heels, but she was still all lithe limbs.

Muttering sourly beneath her breath, she balled her hands into fists. The next bus would take her a few blocks from her house. Perfect. She grinned her rather shark-like grin, and settled herself on the bench seat, scaring off a trio of young boys.

Half an hour later, Helga swore to herself as her stop went whizzing past her window. "Give me a god-damned break!" Stumbling to her feet, she pulled at the rope and pushed through a gaggle of school girls, just in time to leap out of the door. "Where the hell am I?"

She roved her eyes around the sentinel of tall, thin town houses, their faces closed off to the street with blinds and curtains. This street seemed familiar. Music poured out of the house opposite her, the only building where the curtains were open, and the dark silhouettes of individuals joined together to dance in front of the windows.

Cursing to herself, Helga shifted her black patent handbag from one shoulder to the other. She turned resolutely to where the bus had come from, and tried to get her bearings, when a faded mark in the concrete caught her eye.

_Helg_

_Gera_

_Stin_

_Arno_

A shock of recognition shivered through her. Helga bent down, her ballet flats popped off her heels. Her long fingers traced the letters, sluiced through wet cement more than a decade before. A new slab of concrete had been poured over the end of the names, but she could remember making her mark here, as clear as it was yesterday. Helga, Gerald, Stinky and _Arnold_.

"We were the ones that didn't have a home-time." The whisper wouldn't have been audible to anyone who didn't have their ear to Helga's lips, so no one heard. Turning her head back to the lit, lively house, she remembered who had lived there, and a little smile played across her lips. _Football Head_. A lot had changed in the street since then. The empty lot was now a new, white development. The weeds that had pushed up through the crack in the side walk were gone. The street had been re-sealed, the houses had been re-painted.

"Gee-zus!" Helga exclaimed to herself. With the cold understanding that can only be known to those who close themselves off from the world, Helga realized that she hadn't seen her old school friends for four years. She stood up, and tried to shake the strangely fuzzy feeling of nostalgia from her head. Stalking a few meters yards to the closest bench, she slumped into the seat, let her head fall against the hard wood, ignored the people walking past her. On a whim, she snaked her hand into her bag and pulled out her cell-phone. Without even looking, she dialled a number, and held her breath until the call was answered.

"_Helga?" _The voice was soft, high.

"Oh, hey, Phoebe! Uh…" There was a long, awkward pause. Helga cringed inwardly. This is why she didn't try to keep in contact with people. It was always so _forced._

"_God, Helga! It's so good to hear from you! What are you doing? Are you in town or something?" _Helga's heart pulsed as she heard the enthusiasm in Phoebe's voice.

"No, no. Nothing like that." She couldn't help but feel disappointed. She suddenly felt like company. "But I caught the wrong bus tonight, and ended up in front of _Arnold's_ old place. Remember, just up the block from the lot?"

"_OhMyGodYes!" _Phoebe was breathless. Was it really _that_ strange that Helga was calling? I mean, they were supposed to be best friends, weren't they?

"Yeah, well, I suppose I just got all nostalgic or something?"

"_Oh, Helga! Have Gerald and those guys been in touch? We're all trying to get back for summer! There's supposed to be a big party at Arnold's house next week! It's going to be amazing! Won't it be exciting? Seeing everyone again?"_ Phoebe was gushing, her small voice animated with anticipation.

Helga's stomach dropped. No one had contacted _her_ about any kind of reunion. "Uh. Yeah. Well, I've _heard_ about it, obviously. But I might be out of town, for work. Not sure if I can go…"

Helga could hear Phoebe's breath catch at the other end of the line. "_Oh. Well. I hope you can make it. Could you try get out of work? Take a sick day or something? It wouldn't be the same without you."_

College had changed Phoebe. She was more… verbose than she had been. "I'll try. But you know it is…" Bull. Phoebe had no idea how _it_ was.

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Disappointment radiated through the phone. "_Okay. Well, I better go, I was just on my way out when you rang. I _hope_ you can come next week. But even if you don't, I'll catch up with you, okay?"_

Helga muttered a half hearted response. She would rather be forgotten about than be pitied. "_Miss you."_ The declaration was so low that Helga barely caught it. Suddenly, all of her negative feelings dropped away, and she only felt love towards her oldest friend.

"Yeah, Me too." She sighed, and dropped her head forward. "Seeya, Phoebe." She mumbled, and snapped her phone shut.

"God-damn-it" she whispered and closed her eyes. Loneliness, an emotion that Helga normally stubbornly refused to acknowledge, settled down onto her. It was a Thursday night, the unofficial start of the weekend. Most of the people from her office would be at the pub across the road from work, but no one ever bothered to invite her any more. She hated most of the people she worked with, why did they assume she wanted to spend time with them _voluntarily_?

A few week rays of evening sun slanted onto her face from between the buildings. She could hear the music coming from Arnold's old house. She hadn't heard that his family had moved from there, but then again, she hadn't heard anything about anyone in a long time. There was going to be a party, at _Arnold's _house. Butterflies tickled her stomach just thinking about it. She _could_ go, there was no work trip keeping her from seeing all of her old school friends.

Arnold's house. Arnold. She hadn't _consciously_ thought about him in years. She dreamt of him, every now and then, and sometimes caught herself picking out his features in the faces of others. But her massive school-girl crush had dissipated years ago. She smirked to herself, how did she even get that old photo of him that she used to carry around? Probably through some faintly psychotic means. She sighed, slouching further down onto the bench as a cool breeze whipped down the street.

Arnold, with his blonde spiky hair and round blue eyes. Was it him or Gerald that she used to call 'Hair Boy'? She couldn't really remember any more. She tried to remember the last time that she had seen him. Probably at the graduation party, but she couldn't recall exactly. She started as the cell phone in her hands burst into life. Glaring at the little screen, she groaned. "Great."

"Yeah?" Irritation coloured her voice. "I don't know… No… Well, I don't _feel_ like cooking… You're a big boy, heat up some of that chicken curry from last night… Jesus Bob, it's just garlic, it won't kill you!" Tension crawled up her back as her needy, pathetic father grumbled at her over the phone. She closed here eyes, and moved her hand to press her fingers hard against her forehead. "Look, I'm going out tonight. I'll be back later, okay? Just get some takeaways if you don't want the curry… Yeah, bye." She clamped her phone shut and slumped forward a bit, her shoulders hunched around her ears.

Now she was stuck, she couldn't go home for a few hours without her father pressing her to feed him, but she had nowhere to go. Maybe she should see if the old theatre was still open, go see a movie. She could almost smell it, the warm, buttery popcorn and the leather seats. She hadn't seen anything advertised recently that appealed, but there was bound to be some subtitled arty film showing that could keep her distracted for a few hours.

But what would she do if the theatre had been shut down, like they had tried to do over a decade ago? Should she catch another bus back into town and see a movie out there? She was debating her options, when she vaguely registered that someone had stopped behind her. She screwed her eyes shut tighter, hoping that whoever they were, they would just keep walking. She heard soft footsteps move around to the side of the bench, and there was a pause before a quiet, husky voice said her name.

"Helga?"

Her head jerked up. She probably shouldn't have been surprised that someone here recognized her, after all, she had lived on this block for the first fourteen years of her life. But she just gaped up at the guy standing over her, a shock of blonde hair falling into his eyes, which he pushed back with long fingers as he gazed down at her. Slowly, Helga realized that she was staring, and straightened her shoulders to acknowledge him.

"Arnold?"


	2. Chapter 2

Arnold wondered if she even remembered him, she stared at him for so long. Maybe he made a mistake, maybe this girl _wasn't _Helga. She _looked_ like Helga, with her blonde hair and massive eyes. Long moments passed before she sat bolt upright and said his name.

"Arnold?"

He grinned, he wasn't going mad after all. "Helga!" He took a step forward, leaning down to extend his hand to her. Normally, he would give an old friend a hug, as opposed to a stiff handshake, but Helga had always been prickly. Long years of conditioning told him to keep his distance, lest he bring on one of her snarky rants. _Get your hands off me, Football Head! What do you think I am? Some kind of freaking Hippy or something? You might have grown up in some touchy-feely commune, but it doesn't mean the rest of us want to be pawed at whenever you feel a hug coming on!_

Smiling despite himself, he shook her hand, and gestured down towards the shops. "Are you busy? I'm on a feta mission, you free to take a walk with me?"

Helga was silent as she picked up her bag and stood to face him, but her initial shock had worn off by the time they had taken a half dozen steps. "So, Arnold, what are you doing nowadays? Last I heard you were off studying bridges or something down South."

His smile was still plastered on his face, he liked this, seeing old friends. Helga was probably the most interesting of them all, too, the one he had though about most over the last four years. "Yeah, I'm studying Civil Engineering. Almost done. I took a semester off in second year to travel a bit, so I'm not quite finished." He paused for a second, but Helga didn't volunteer any information, she walked in silence, her large eyes flicking to his face every few seconds. "What are you doing with yourself now?" He asked.

"Uh, just working as a PA for a corporate fat-cat." She bit her bottom lip, a nervous tic that Arnold noticed, but didn't mention. They walked on in silence for half a block. Arnold fretted at first, unused to Helga being quiet, but after a little while, he realized that she had just changed, that she wasn't as loud mouthed as she used to be. That couldn't be a bad thing.

He noted how tall she was as she moved beside him. After being one of the shortest for years, he had shot up in the last few years of school, and was now a decent 6'1". She could only be an inch or two shorter, he figured, but then she had always been tall. She definitely looked a lot more grown up. The blue-grey shirt and dark pants she was wearing was a long cry from the Jeans and T shirts of her teenage years, and a lifetime from that weird pink dress she wore all the time when she was a kid.

His mind started to wander, he had always worn that blue cap, and Sid had practically lived in those awful white cowboy boots. He wondered if Sid would follow through on his declaration, and find a pair of similar boots to wear to the party next week.

"Oh, Helga!" he started. Helga jerked her head around at his sudden exclamation, her eyebrows raised. "I can't believe I forgot! There's going to be a big reunion party thing at my place _next_ Friday night, can you make it?"

Helga shrugged. "I'm not sure. I have to go away for work sometimes…" Her excuse sounded lame, her insincerity rang in Arnold's ears.

"Oh." Arnold's face fell. "Everyone's going to be there! You should definitely come if you can! Phoebe gave me your address, we were going to send you an invite. You're the only one from the old group that doesn't have a facebook page." His statement was pointed, and he raised an eyebrow at her in mock derision.

Helga groaned. "Don't you start. I hate those things." She grimaced. "I don't really want a website to tell me what colour I am, or what my _inner animal_ is. And no one actually cares anyway."

Arnold smiled, that sounded more like the old Helga. "It's actually kinda cool. It's pretty funny when you see how people have changed, and, of course, it means that you can actually be _contacted_ and _invited_ to things…"

Helga scoffed in a good-natured way. "Alright then, you've invited me to the party, so tell me how much everyone has changed."

Arnold shook his head. "Oh no, it's not _that_ easy. I'm not going to ruin the surprise by telling you everyone else's news!"

Helga groaned, a grin across her face. "Okay, deal. If you can tell me _one thing_ about one of the _gang_ that _shocks me_, I'll make sure I can come to the party."

Arnold laughed his quiet laugh. "Easy. Uh, how about… Harold's getting married. Next month." He laughed again as Helga stumbled. His hand reached out to steady her, but she righted herself before his fingers touched her. "You're surprised, no?"

She sputtered as she shook her head in disbelief. "Who to?" she managed as last.

Arnold's eyes twinkled, she would definitely come to the party now. "Guess." He demanded. He shook his head as Helga protested. "Come on now, think back. If you can remember, it's an easy guess."

He watched her as she thought, her teeth biting at her bottom lip, her eyes looking past him. "Not… Patty?" she asked in a breath of laughter. Her giggle died as Arnold just raised his eyebrows. "Patty?!" she exclaimed, her face incredulous. "_Big Patty?"_

"Don't let him hear you call her that. He probably wouldn't thump a girl, but he would definitely give you an earful." Arnold's smile spread further across his face. "But there's worse. I don't suppose you've caught up with Stinky at all?"

Helga snorted, conjuring up a picture of the awkward, lanky kid from her youth, ears and nose too big for his thin face. "Wasn't he going to be a gardener or something?" She asked. She stepped sideways quickly to avoid a child on his tricycle, and bumped right up against Arnold's side. He watched as a bolt of electricity seemed to jolt through her. She turned her big eyes up to him, her mouth slightly open.

"He's definitely not a gardener any more." He smiled, registering a sad kind of shock as Helga almost leaped away from him, like her upper arm was burned by their bare skin touching.

"So… Don't hold out on me now, Arnold, what _is_ the great and illustrious Stinky doing?" A sneer appeared on her face, a crease between her eyebrows, as she raised her hand to touch her skin where their arms had met. Could she really react so strongly to human contact?

"No way. You can see him for yourself." They relaxed into each others company again as Helga grumbled at him for 'holding out on her'. A moment later they were standing in front of the grocers. The old owner, tall and thin with a hatchet face, had sold the store a few years ago, and the new proprietors didn't recognize them as they stood in the doorway, suddenly awkward.

"Well, I'll see you next Friday then, I suppose." Helga blushed and fumbled with the strap of her bag as she hefted it higher on her shoulder and moved to turn away.

"What are you doing tonight?" Arnold hurried, before she could take a step. He found himself feeling rather anxious as she paused, half turned away from him. He didn't know how close her anger was to the surface, he didn't want to risk one of her old tirades.

Eventually she sighed. "I really don't know. I was going to see if there is anything good playing at the old theatre, but I don't even know if it's still open." Her long fingers toyed with the buckle on the black patent strap, her eyes not quite meeting his.

"Come have dinner with us!" Arnold's smile was evident in his voice. "The theatre is open, and I'm sure they're showing something awesome. But _we're_ having roast chicken."

So over an hour later, they were sitting elbow to elbow at the dinner table, the last of the boarders pushing back their chairs to leave. They sat in silence for a minute. Arnold watched the oily film of wine slosh across the glass he swirled slightly in his hands, and Helga absent mindedly traced the pattern in the tablecloth with her finger.

"Arnold!" they jumped slightly as his Grandma burst back into the room, her fine grey hair pulled haphazardly away from her face. "Take your lady friend into the front room! I'll bring you some tea and biscuits!" Her voice was almost scolding.

Arnold chortled, a low, gravely sound. "Yes grandma." He said politely, and turned in his seat to face Helga. "Well, how about it, Lady Friend?" Not waiting for an answer, he stood, and hesitated slightly before deciding against offering Helga his arm. "C'mon." He gestured to the door, and led her down the hallway to the rarely used 'front room'.

Sprawling himself on a large, soft sofa, he watched Helga as she perched on the edge of an armchair, looking decidedly out of place against the floral fabric. "Sorry about Grandma." Arnold smiled. "She wants to see me settle down with a _nice girl_."

Helga laughed briefly. "Yeah? And how's _that_ working out for you?" Arnold mentally added the _Football Head_ to the end of her sentence. Her cynical tone was as much as part of his childhood as baseball, and somehow her sentences seemed incomplete without some kind of insult.

He just shrugged as he finished the last of his wine and leaned to place the glass on the coffee table at his knees. "No one special." He said simply. He had dated a bit, had even exclusively seen one girl for over six months, but he didn't really feel any kind of _pull_ to any of the girls he had been with. "What about you?"

She laughed again, that short derisive 'ha'. "You gotta be kidding me. All the guys my age are either taken or sleaze-balls. No thank you."

Arnold was completely lost for words for a second. Stupidly, the first thought that came into his head was 'and what am _I_, chopped liver?' where did _that_ come from? He couldn't defend his demographic without belittling her circumstances, and he couldn't say anything vaguely encouraging without sounding condescending. Tongue tied, he silently thanked the gods when his Grandpa came in with the tea-tray balanced lightly between his two gnarled hands.

He watched her as they talked. She really had grown up, she was tall and slender, her dark blonde hair pulled back into a heavy ponytail. Her eyes had kept their heavy lids, and her top lip was still much fuller than her bottom one, giving her a Michelle Pheifer-like pout. He had never noticed before how good looking she was.

Had she always looked like this, and her permanent scowl had disguised it, or had she just grown up pretty? She didn't move like someone who knew they were attractive, she held herself stiffly, and stomped a little as she walked. Just like she had when she was a kid, she _strode_. The more he looked at her, the stranger she seemed. She was caught in the contrast between her prim demeanour and her overtly sexy mouth, her naturally bedroom-y eyes.

It was late by the time Helga had declared that she needed to get going. She grumbled when Arnold insisted on walking her home, but they fell into step with each other on the pavement. Enjoying their quiet, easy banter, he was almost disappointed when she came to a halt outside of a large apartment building. The foyer was lit, a man in uniform was sitting behind a desk, his eyes glued to a paperback.

"Well, this is it." Helga said breathlessly. "We're level three."

He looked at her for a second, her big eyes cast down demurely at the pavement. She was side-lit by the street lamp across the road, the shadows of her face accentuated the fullness of her top lip, darkened her eyes. He found himself suddenly stepping closer to her, his hand reaching out to touch her wrist.

He looked into her eyes as they flicked up to his face. Her expression mirrored the shock that he felt at himself. He didn't act like this, without thinking it through first. But his move to touch her had been almost involuntary.

"Good night, Helga." His voice was a little strangled, detached, as he tried to make sense of his own actions.

"Uh, night." She mumbled back, and turned to tread into her building.

On the twenty minute walk back to his house, Arnold tried to get his head feeling less fuzzy. Maybe he shouldn't have had that last glass of wine. He pictured Helga as she was when he had first seen her, looking tiny and dejected on the bench seat. He remembered her as a kid, with those stupid pig-tails and that odd pink dress.

He wondered again why he had moved to touch her, when he was normally so cautious when it came to girls. He would have to be extra careful when it came to Helga. He paused for a second, picking up that hiccup in his inner monologue. '_When it came to Helga'_ what? What did he want…

A little thrill buzzed in his stomach, despite himself. "God, I can be a real moron sometimes." He hummed to himself as he rounded a corner. No wonder he had been staring at her full lips all night… he wanted to kiss her.


	3. Chapter 3

Helga woke up the next morning with a churning feeling in her stomach, so pleasant she almost couldn't stand it. She had seen Arnold! She had gone to his house and talked with him for hours. He had walked her home, like a proper gentleman, and if she wasn't mistaken, he had made some kind of pass at her. Hadn't he?

She pushed her face into her pillow and pulled her sheets close around her shoulders. She deliberately went through a myriad of small moments she had mentally documented the night before. How his eyes had widened when she had first said his name. How they had drooped half closed, in a sexy, suggestive way when he had asked her to sit in the front room with him. How he had leaned closer and closer towards her, turning to face her while they had been talking.

And lastly, how he had stepped right up to her, his face so close, and touched her wrist, when he dropped her off home. A little twinge rang through her, way down, just remembering that confused, hesitant look on his face. Of course, she had freaked out and high-tailed it back into her apartment, but in the bright morning light, she allowed herself a moment to fantasize. What would have happened if she had asked him upstairs for a coffee?

She giggled into her pillow at that. _Imagine_, she thought to herself. _After all these years of me pining away after him… imagine if he actually wanted to…_ She conjured up images of their long, skinny limbs, all tangled together, and bit her lower lip.

_Argh_. She mentally shook herself. _Snap out of it. _She commanded herself. _Even if Arnold does want to… _She couldn't quite make herself state what he might want to do, even mentally. _It doesn't mean squat. I'm not going to be one of those girls, not even for Arnold. I've waited this long, I can wait until its… proper._

There was more than a little bitterness to her inner ramblings. Helga Pataki, the twenty two year old virgin. She had dated a little, a very little, but most of the guys she had seen had stopped calling her after she hadn't made any indication that she would put out. _Good riddance._ She had stood by her own sister's side as Olga had gone through an abortion. Helga knew from her sister's experience that no matter how nice a guy might seem, he could just up and leave you if things got a bit hairy.

She shed her good mood as she climbed out of bed to get ready for work. "He was just being _Arnold."_ She growled to herself as she put on her minimal make-up. "Arnold's _nice_, that's his thing." She sneered severely at her own reflection. She ruefully wished that something about her would change. She had the long, shapeless body of a model. This would be all well and good if she wanted to model, and men actually found that physique attractive, but she couldn't think of anything worse than prancing about in her knickers for a camera, and in real life, men didn't look twice at her.

She shucked her robe off her shoulders, and surveyed herself in the mirror. She was _long_. Granted, she could wear a bikini in public easily enough, but she would like to fill one out. Even phoebe, with her tiny frame, had bigger boobs than Helga. She sighed, cupping her palms over her breasts. "Not even a handful." She scowled.

Her hips were a bit better. She turned away from the mirror and craned her neck to see her reflection from the rear. Although she wasn't… opulent… she at least didn't have that swimmers look, all broad shoulders and manly hips.

Telling herself off for being so vain, she slid into some slinky undies and a matching bra. She pretty much only bothered wearing bra's to work, out of a sense of decorum, its not like they actually held anything up. She liked this underwear, a pale, frothy blue, with a low-cut cup. She tended to wear it on Friday's, just to make herself feel a little more capable, or powerful, or something.

"Ah shit. Friday." She groaned, and hurried to get dressed. There was a board meeting today, and she had meant to get to work early to make sure everything went smoothly. As stupid as it seemed, the heads all had their favourite pastries, and she liked to make sure she got to the patisserie early. Grabbing her bag, she shot out the door. Today was going to be a taxi day.

* * *

Helga was almost humming when she finally got home from work. The board meeting had gone perfectly, even the projector was working. She had managed to get the last chocolate croissants in the store, and a bag of the fresh-ground coffee that her boss really liked. She had even voiced an idea in the meeting, and it had been met with agreement!

The company was going to have a new point-of-sale computer system designed for their retail stores, and Helga was now in charge of contacting stores and collating all of the feedback on the old system. Nothing huge, but it was a step to show the higher-ups that she wasn't just a pretty, vacant face.

She kicked off her shoes as she stepped in her door. Taking a long, deep breath, she let herself relax. It was Friday night, her father would be out at the pub until at least midnight, and she wanted to catch up on TrueBlood.

She took a long, hot shower, and slathered herself in her favourite lotion. She was just putting the kettle on for a cup of tea, when the phone went. She glanced at the called ID and picked up when she recognized the front desk's number.

"Yaaa-lo." She chirped, opening a cupboard and scrutinizing its contents.

"_Hey there Helga. Got two guys in suits waiting to come up? I didn't catch a name for ya… but I can ask if you like?" _Helga frowned for a second. She _was_ expecting a Fed-Ex from an office across town, but it was pretty likely that someone was just dropping it off on their way home, to save on postage.

"That's okay, let them up Dave."

"_Will do, ta Helga." _She smiled when he hung up, Dave was one of the few people that she genuinely got along with.

She stepped into the lounge to check her reflection in the big mirror on the wall. She was tidy enough, and in a silky, kimono style robe she treated herself to a few months back. She turned side to side, making sure that she was presentable enough to be seen by her boss's associates. She quickly decided that she looked like she was either getting ready for a big night out, or preparing herself for a big night _in._ Good. Keep 'em guessing...

She was checking that her teeth were clear of spinach when the doorbell rang. She stepped down the hall, and opened the door, a big smile on her face, and her eyes heavy-lidded. She opened her mouth to speak some inane greeting, when she recognized the two men standing in front of her. Words failed to come into her head, so she just stood there, feeling half naked as her visitors grinned at her.

"Arnold?" she managed at last. "_Gerald?" _They seemed to fill up the hallway, Gerald was lounging against the door frame, looking every bit as confident as she remembered, and Arnold was standing beside him, a little less self-assured than his friend, but he always had been. The oddest thing, however, was that they were in suits, black suits with white shirts and black ties. They looked _great_, but… what on earth?

Gerald just grinned. "Day-um, Helga! You grew up _fine!_" Gerald held his arms open, his grin letting her know that he was the same old Gerald "Come gimme some sugar!" she stepped hesitantly into his hug.

"Uh, Hi, guys…" she faltered as she stepped away, completely taken off-guard. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"The old lady is showin' some back to backs, baby! Come hang with the cool cats!" Gerald's explanation left Helga speechless, and she turned to Arnold in confusion.

He laughed softly as he deciphered Gerald's speech for her. "There's a Tarantino double feature on at the old theatre tonight. Reservoir Dogs and Pulp fiction, if you wanna join us?"

She forgot her cup of tea and unwatched shows, and smiled as she moved aside to let them in. "Sure! I, uh, have to get dressed, though." She gestured to her robe, blushing as Gerald cast an obvious, appreciative eye across her.

"Fancy dress!" He grinned, opening the front of his jacket to show the silky lining. "Tarantino or nothing, pretty lady."

Helga laughed. "Yeah, sure. So… are you guys actual characters, or just generic Quentin suits?" She raised an eyebrow at them as they stood in the hallway.

"Do you have to ask? I, of course, am the Bad Mother Fucker. _And God will strike you down with great vengeance and FURIOUS anger_, and all of that." His smile was infectious, good old Gerald.

"And you?" She turned to Arnold, her heart thumping in spite of herself.

"Ah, Mister… Blue? Or White or something? I forget…" He leaned over quickly to look at a childhood photo of Helga and Olga that was framed on the wall. "The guy that Tim Roth plays in Reservoir Dogs, the undercover cop…"

Helga just nodded. Her mind was racing furiously through the Tarantino movies she had seen, and trying to match one of the female characters with her wardrobe. "I have no idea who to go as…" she admitted as she led the guys into the lounge and told them to make themselves at home. "I'll just go have a look, see what I've got…"

She raced into her room, an idea having just leaped into her head. She pulled a pair of black Capri pants from her wardrobe and tugged them on, then searched through her drawers for a pyjama set that she hadn't yet worn. Finding it, she shook out the top and grinned. Perfect. She tugged the white cotton shirt on over her head, checking carefully in the mirror that her nipples weren't visible through the material.

She tied up her hair, and pinned the ponytail flat to the back of her head, then ran around her eyes heavily with black eye-liner, and spread red lipstick across her lips. She stuck her head out of the door, and making sure that the guys weren't looking, padded down the hall to her sisters unused room. Opening Olga's closet, she tugged a black wig from the shelf above the hangers. Thank god Olga was so organized.

The wig was from a 'Romeo and Juliet' fancy dress party, where Olga had gone as Juliet's mother from the Claire Danes/Leonardo Dicaprio movie. Who incidentally dressed up as Cleopatra. Convoluted. Apart from the gold plastic snake twined around it, the wig was perfect, cut into a severe, fringed bob. Helga tore the snake off the synthetic hair, and grabbed a brush off the dresser to brush out the remnants of glue that had held it in place. It smelt a bit stale, but it looked great. Once the wig was on her head, Helga preened a bit in Olga's mirror, then went and stood in the doorway of the lounge.

"I've forgotten what Maya says when they're about to go to Jack Rabbit Slims…" she confessed, "but I promise that I won't snort your smack."

They whistled when they saw her, making her blush...

"Two from Pulp Fiction!" Gerald crowed as they walked down the pavement. "You're the odd one out, buddy!" He slapped Arnold on the back.

"Oh, I dunno." Helga's hand came halfway up to touching Arnold's hair, but she stopped herself in time. "Your hair looks almost long enough to tie up. You could be mister _La' Royal with cheese_…"

He laughed, that soft, throaty laugh that had always caught Helga's attention, and she realized suddenly that he had invited her to the movies. It wasn't a _date_, but he had gone out of his way to bring her along. She started to get that happy churning feeling again, and tried desperately to squash it.

"Sure, I'll try, if you have a hair tie I can borrow?" Helga couldn't meet Arnold's eyes as she scrounged through her bag for a hair tie. They all laughed as he just managed to pull his hair back into a tiny nub that stuck out from the back of his head. "I need some Bryl-cream." He muttered as he checked his reflection in a dark shop window.

They stopped in at a burger joint on the way, Gerald raising a few eyebrows when he asked for a 'Big Kahuna Burger', and by the time they got to the theatre, they were almost late.

Helga was ecstatic. She was actually out, doing something, on a Friday night. Not only was she being social, but she was enjoying it, _and_ she was out with Arnold, the guy she would have given limbs to be with back in school. She knew it was pathetic, having such a big crush on a guy like that, and she knew it was even more pathetic now, that her giddy feelings had resurfaced so easily.

But she still hoped to hell that he would hold her hand.


	4. Chapter 4

"_I dunno Arnold. She's pretty and all, but… Helga?" _Gerald's voice was incredulous. "_You really think it would be worth it?_

Arnold sighed, shifting the phone from one ear to the other. He was sprawled out on his bed, watching the clouds through the grimy skylight. "I don't know." He reached out to grab his stereo remote, and pressed 'play'. "I really like her, Gerald, and she was good fun last night, wasn't she?" Gerald responded enthusiastically, the previous evening had been a blast. "But I couldn't even hold her hand, man. Remember those long-winded bitch sessions she used to have?" Gerald just laughed in reply. _Everyone_ remembered those. "What if I made a move and she just went ballistic at me?"

"_So ask her out on a date! If she _knows_ that you're gonna make a play, there's less chance of her having a conniption, yeah? Call her up, invite her to some romantic dinner or some shit, and see what she says. Maybe do it after the party though…"_

"Yeah. You're right. I'll ask her out after Friday." Arnold sighed again, completely at a loss. What he _wanted _to do was call Helga right now and ask her over to watch movies with him, but Gerald had already pointed out that he would look like a stalker if he did.

"_I wouldn't have picked it, Arnold my man. Helga Pataki." _Arnold let Gerald have his laugh. After all, this was _Helga…_ He toyed with his cell phone as Gerald chuckled away. "_Ah man, I gotta go. Tomorrow, yeah? Sunday night B-ball."_

"Sure thing, Gerald."

"_Remember man, play it cool!"_ There was a little note of warning in Gerald's voice, although he was still chuckling a bit when he hung up.

Arnold stayed sprawled across the bed, staring at the sky, listening to Miles Davis. He considered Gerald's advice. He knew he _should_ back off a bit or something. Girls swarmed around Gerald, so Arnold figured he knew what he was on about, but… but Arnold wasn't like his best friend.

Arnold was the guy who put on a nice shirt and combed his hair and took a girl flowers if he liked her. He would do that tonight, disregard Gerald's council and turn up on Helga's doorstep with a bunch of daisies, if he wasn't scared she would laugh at him, or slam the door in his face.

He knew she wasn't really a bad person. Even back in school, he had always kinda liked her. She could be really mean, and more than once he had completely blanked her as she was trying to mock him, but he remembered the look on her face when he did that. Just before a nasty sneer turned up her lips, her face would fall, her big eyes suddenly full of hurt.

He always understood that Helga was sad. Her mother, Miriam, had a drinking problem that was common knowledge. The few times Arnold had seen her at parent-teacher interviews and the like, she was a wreck. At the 'official' graduation party, Miriam had passed out behind the Berman's piano.

'Big Bob' Pataki was no better. He openly favoured his older daughter, Olga, to Helga. Helga even endured being called the wrong name, as her father couldn't be bothered to remember hers. Arnold sighed heavily as he remembered Helga's rote reply to being called Olga. He could almost hear her resigned voice… "It's _Helga,_ Dad." Then Bob's impatient "Yeah yeah yeah, Helga, anyway, as I was saying…"

No wonder Helga had held so much animosity towards him. Arnold didn't even have his parents, but he was still more loved than her. He realized that, as far as he knew, no one had ever treated her like she was special. She got good grades, she played baseball like a pro, and she was gorgeous (he appreciated that now) but she had been pretty much ignored, except by brainy. Arnold smiled to himself. Having brainy wheezing over your shoulder would be more of an insult than an ego boost. He knew that _insecurity _was the reason she had attacked him whenever he was nice to her, and he wished now that he had been even nicer.

He had pressed his jacket onto her the night before, as they were walking home from the bar they had all gone to after the movie. When she had protested, he had made a reference to a scene in Pulp fiction, arguing that in was in character. She took the jacket, but she had still been obviously uncomfortable. She had just stared at him like he was a madman.

He felt his heart reach out for the girl who couldn't even accept the age-old ritual of the guy giving the girl the coat…

"Ah, screw this." He muttered to himself. He wanted to see her. He wasn't going to freak her out by trying to 'court' her openly, but he would try to spend more time with her. He unlocked his phone and tapped out a casual message.

Hey Helga. Just about Friday, the party isn't 'fancy dress' as such, but it'll be kinda nostalgic. Sid's going to try find some white cowboy boots, I have an old plaid shirt and my blue hat, that kind of thing. How long has it been since you've had your hair in pigtails!!? :D Arnold.

He flung his phone onto the bed, hoping that Helga would keep up some kind of text-conversation. He stood up and paced a bit, roving his eyes around his room. He needed to do a bit of a fix-up on his fold-down sofa, one of the springs needed to be fixed into place, and the hinges needed oiling.

He checked his phone after he made a trip down to the basement, returning with the power drill, some screws and a can of CRC. No messages. He mended his sofa, returned the tools, and was checking his emails and things when his phone buzzed. That tiny thrill of excitement ran through him as he opened the message.

_Pigtails? Do you remember the last time I socked you one? Probably not since then ;) Pity the party's not down at the courts, I could thrash you at B-ball. For old times sake._

Arnold was laughing as he replied. She had always been pretty good at sports.

Is that a challenge?

His phone beeped with her retort only moments later.

_You got a ball?_

He could see it from his desk, he would need to pump it up, though. It was only eleven in the morning, and he needed to run some errands for Grandma… he thought for a second…

You and me, courts, 3 o'clock.

He held the phone in his lap, staring at the screen until it leaped into life with her response.

_Wear the hat._

* * *

Arnold was early, and he leaned against a tall wire fence as he waited for Helga to turn up. He tugged self consciously at his much-loved hat.

"Short-man!" Arnold started at Helga's voice, and turned to face her. "Ready to eat asphalt?" She was standing on the other side of the wire, her hands on her hips, a dark eyebrow raised.

-gulp-

"Is that... _the _dress?" He asked, eyeing her appreciatively. She was wearing what he supposed was once a dress, but was now more of a long singlet. It was suspiciously pink, and quite form-fitting. She was wearing a white singlet underneath it, but it was still quite... strappy. Best of all was what was on her legs. He supposed she had to wear _something, _or that top would be indecent, but the grey leggings she had on hugged her _tight._ On her feet were big white Nike high-tops, the kind that were insanely cool when they were kids. Their bulk made her legs look even longer and more delicate. He could feel that big moony grin spreading across his face...

"Depends... is that _the _hat?" She was squeezing through a hole in the fence, swearing when a curled wire snagged on her hair.

He watched her as she dropped her bag on the ground and reached up to re-tie her ponytail. Just like she had when she had got sick of her wig the night before, she leaned her head right back and shook out her hair, exposing her long, white throat. His eyes lingered in that little dip between her collarbones, then moved to her hair. He was very conscious to _not _look lower. He had made that mistake the night before, and had been wondering since if she had been wearing a bra...

He _liked _Helga, he felt kind of bad having impure thoughts about her. Inwardly, he groaned, maybe Gerald was right when he said that Arnold was was too nice for his own good. It wasn't like Helga would know when he was picturing her in various states of undress.

"The one and only!" He said brightly, forcing himself to snap back to reality.

"Of course it is." She squinted at the worn blue cap sitting on top of his head. "Rhonda used to bemoan that thing." She struck a prim pose, her wrist held out in front of her, her nose high in the air. "_Oh, if _only _Arnold would wear something a bit more _fashionable! _He would be _tres _magnafique!" _

Laughing his soft laugh, he shook his head at her. "You were always way worse about my hat than Rhonda... to my face, anyway."

She stood for a second, turning a bit pink, before she shrugged. "I suppose." pause. "But then I could hardly talk, could I?" She smoothed out her old pink dress, sighing dramatically. "This thing was subject to many a cruel barb. I was just as poorly dressed as you were... in your skirt..." A sly smile spread across her face, and Arnold couldn't help but laugh with her. Most of the shirts he wore back then, he could still easily get into now. He had _no _idea why he had worn them so long.

"So that _is _the dress!" He exclaimed, taking the opportunity to look her up and down again. "I can't believe it still fits after what, twelve, thirteen years?"

Helga shrugged again, her face turned red and she was biting her bottom lip. "I liked my clothes baggy." She said tersely, almost snapping. Taking her eyes from his face, she leaned forward to knock the ball out from under Arnold's arm, and caught it as it bounced away. "We gonna play?"

Arnold frowned. Had he said something wrong?

"Oi, you!" Helga moved up to a group of kids playing ball. They stopped the game in an instant, their small faces gaping up at Her like she was a deity. "Shove it down to half-court, will ya? I have a game to win here." The kids dutifully tramped down to the far end, one or two scowling at her as they left. "Oh suck it up." Helga yelled at them. She turned back to Arnold, waving him over. Her mouth opened to say something, but then her face screwed up, a grin evident in her eyes, and she just shook her head.

"We used to hate it when big kids would take over the courts like that." Arnold said softly, his voice nostalgic, as opposed to admonishing.

Helga snorted. "Yeah. And then you and Gerald would come up with a plan to get our courts back, I would laugh at you, you would rally the troops and give us all a big pep talk, and we would end up victorious." She spun the ball on the tip of her index finger. "You gonna stand there yakking all day? Or are we gonna get this over with?" Her tone was the old cynical snarl he knew, but her face was a light, a big grin crinkling up her eyes.

Arnold nodded in response. A grin on his face, he crouched into his fighting stance and pushed the sleeves of his t-shirt up his arms. "Give it your best shot, Pataki."

"Woo!" Helga hollered, she turned and bounded down the court, the thwak of the ball against the concrete. "Game on!"

* * *

Half an hour later, they were sprawled at the end of the court, watching the kids resume their game. Helga accepted the bottle of water from Arnold, and fanned her face with her free hand. "Phew, I'm outta shape."

"You and me both." Arnold smiled, watching her through his half-closed eyes. "Although _obviously_ I have let myself go to seed. I don't think you would have won if it was a question of skill..."

Helga chuckled. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Arnold..." She was obviously in a good mood. Arnold knew full well why he had lost: he couldn't keep his head on the game. When he tried to block her, he kept realising that she was standing in the circle of his arms. When she bent over, or ran fast enough, the hem of her short dress would ride up, _almost _to the place where girls start to get real curvy. He had spent the game forcing himself not to get too close, and trying not to look where he shouldn't. It was exhausting.

He watched the kids play for a moment, then caught Helga biting her lip in mirth again, obviously trying not to burst into hysterics.

"Spit it out, Helga." Arnold said warily. He waved his cap at her. "Go on, let it off your chest."

Helga just shook her head, her shoulders were hunched and her face was red with silent laughter. Arnold stayed quiet, he eyeballed her, trying to keep a straight, serious face, but smiling despite himself.

"It... its just..." her breath was coming in big gasps, as she tried to bottle up her amusement. "When... you said... about my dress still fitting... I was gonna say the same thing... back... to you... but... but..."

A bubble of laughter burst out from Arnold's throat. Jesus, she had wanted to make fun of him, and had actually tried to hold back... "But... its not like my head could have grown any bigger?"

Helga wailed, dropping her head and putting her hands over her face as she heaved with laughter. She couldn't even talk, so she just shook her head.

"Go on Helga... say it." a smile pulled at the corner of Arnold's lips. He had never, ever seen Helga laugh like this. Somehow he knew that it wasn't really at him, either, but at their old situation, at how she used to be.

"Noooooo!" Helga moaned from behind her hands. "I caaaaan't!"

"Go on. It'll make you feel better... I don't mind." Arnold battled against his arm, which wanted to lay itself over her shoulders. When Helga still refused, her laughter now almost sobbing, he sighed, and flicked a pebble at her. "Tell you what, I'll give you one free jibe, for old times sake, with no repercussions."

Helga lifted her head and looked him straight in the eye, tears on her cheeks. "Good game... _Football Head!"_


	5. Chapter 5

"So Arnold," Gerald drawled as he pulled his shiny convertible into the parking lot of PS118 "I hear you and the lovely Ms Pataki indulged in a night in yesterday evening?" He raised a dark eyebrow at Arnold, who grinned at him from the passenger seat.

"Yeah, I know." Arnold said softly, his cheeks reddening. "You said to leave it. But we had a good time."

Gerald laughed. He turned the ignition off and pulled out the key. "A GOOD, good time?" he asked, nudging Arnold with his elbow.

"Fuck. I wish." Arnold groaned, leaning his head back against the seat.

Gerald spluttered "You gotta be kidding me. The Short Man finally wants to do more with a lady than admire her from afar?"

"Very funny, Gerald." Arnold closed his eyes, then snapped them open again when the first thing he saw was Helga's full mouth, her massive eyes... he sighed.

Gerald settled back into his seat, they still had a twenty minutes before the game started, a few minutes for Arnold to vent, then inside for hotdogs and basketball! "So what are you gonna do, my brother? She's gonna be a handful!"

"I don't know. I know what I WANT to do, fucking almost drove me crazy last night... But she doesn't really seem like she would be up for a bit of how's-your-father, does she?" He gritted his teeth. "God, I sound like Sid. Shoot me."

"I dunno Arnold, sounds like it might be good for you." Gerald paused, but Arnold was just staring into the distance. "If you aren't passive about her, then she might not get all flaky on you, which, to be honest, seems to be a theme with you."

Arnold nodded, his face dour. "I can't do the aggressive macho stuff. God knows I thought about it last night, I almost asked her to stay..." He trailed off, remembering how sweet Helga looked when she had started getting sleepy. Her long legs curled up on the seat of his sofa, her heavy eyelids falling closed, then darting open. He had wanted to pick her up and put her in his bed, or stretch her out and lie next to her on the sofa, or just put her feet in his lap... anything! But he had just sat there, nervous and anxious. He shook himself, cleared his throat.

"But even if she had, it's not like I would have done anything with her. Not that I care about that really, but... fuck, if I just had more time! I thought a month here would be plenty, but now it feels like the next three weeks aren't enough. Especially if I wait till Friday to... That only gives me two weeks to..."

"Woo her?" Gerald laughed, then laughed harder as Arnold nodded, grimacing. "Dude, you'll get it sorted. What's the rush anyway, she'll still be here when you get back."

"I know she'll be here, but what if she meets someone?" They sat in silence for a second before Gerald dissolved into laughter. Arnold smiled, shaking his head. "I sound like a kid, huh?"

Gerald nodded, grinning. "Don't pay it no nevermind, Arnold my man... Phoebe seems to think that Helga would most definitely be interested in being courted by a suave young man like yourself."

Arnold baulked. "You told her? Aw shit man... Aren't they hanging out tonight?"

"Of course I told the mother of my future children something that pertains to her best friend, regarding my best friend! Give the lady some credit, she'll be tactful. Now get out, I want hot dogs."

"God I hope you're right." Arnold groaned. "Phebe's wouldn't just blurt something like that out, would she?"

* * *

Before Helga could even press the doorbell, Phoebe flung open her front door and grabbed her friend by the wrist.

"OhmygodHELGA!" her small, pretty face was lit up with an enormous grin. "ARNOLD!"

Helga stood gaping, her heart having leaped into her throat at that name... Arnold? Was he here? She ran a hand nervously down her ponytail. She started to mentally catalogue the shortcomings in her appearance. She hadn't put on any make up, nor taken to her eyebrows with tweezers. Her jeans weren't clean and her top was thin, making her instantly paranoid that her nipples were visible.

"Helloooo? Heeeelgaaaaa!" Phoebe tugged at her arm, dragging her inside. Helga cast her eyes around, no sign of Arnold or Gerald in the kitchen / dining area, and she couldn't hear any noise coming from the lounge...

"HELGA!"

The blonde jumped at Phoebe's bark. "What?"

"What's with you! Jesus!" Phoebe grinned, then bounced up onto the balls of her feet and wrapped her arms around Helga's neck. "It's been so long!" Helga smiled and returned her little friends hug. She still smelt the same, and the scent took her straight back to childhood.

"Ah fuck Phebes!" She choked, knowing that she didn't have to explain how much she missed her best friend when she was away.

Phoebe giggled. "Alright alright. Get your ass up to my room. I'll bring up the tea in a minute and you KNOW I want to hear all about what you and Mr Shortman have been up to!" She tugged herself out from Helga's grasp and ran on tippy toes into the kitchen. "Go!" she yelled when Helga didn't move...

... "I don't know Phebes!" Helga groaned, clutching a stuffed bear to her chest. "He's so NICE! I mean, he insists on walking me home and tries to buy my drinks and food and stuff, and he even gave me his jacket to wear... but it's Arnold, you know? He's nice to everyone! He hasn't made a move, or whatever..." She plucked nervously at the teddy bear's ear and chewed on her bottom lip. After being on a high all day from his gentle attention, she started being attacked by doubts. "He probably doesn't even like me like that."

"That's not what Gerald said!" Phoebe practically exploded, her voice raising an octave with excitement. She giggled as Helga turned bright pink. "Apparently Arnold couldn't stop talking about you which is why Gerald just turned up at your place for the movies and the next day Arnold was all confused and didn't know what to do because he LIKES YOU! Gerald told him to be cool and wait for the party on Friday to do anything, he was so miffed when I told him that you guys were watching movies last night!" She giggled again, clamping her hands over her mouth, her eyes shining.

"Are... are you sure? I mean... um..." Helga faltered, she could feel her skin burning as her blushing skin changed from pink to red. She thought back to the night before. She had spent the entire evening wishing she had the courage to do something outrageous. Even just snuggling up against him while they watched those crappy old sci fi's would have been amazing. But he had made no indication that he wanted to do anything in that vein... She had almost asked if she could stay the night with him, she was so tired and desperately just wanted to be close to him. But fear of rejection had won over in the end, and he had walked her home again.

"Totally sure! It was the only thing Gerald wanted to talk about on the way home from the airport last night! He asked me to find out if you like Arnold back today... don't worry, I didn't tell him anything." She added quickly as a look of terror flitted across Helga's face. "But Gerald said that Arnold's 'got it bad'! GOT IT BAD! You know what that means in Gerald speak! What are you going to do?" She waited for a second for Helga to answer, gritting her teeth as her blonde friend stared silently at the ceiling, her knuckles white as her fingers dug into her soft toy. "Are you going to go for it?" She cried before growling, leaning over Helga's legs, tearing the bear from her arms and whacking her in the stomach with it. "ARE YOU?"

"Well shit Phebes! I DON'T KNOW!" Helga struggled to sit up, putting her arms over her face to protect herself from the teddy assault. "He's not staying! You know I'm not... like... I haven't..." She sighed and shuffled back, sitting up against the headboard, suddenly feeling teary. "I like him. I really, really like him. It's not just all that nostalgia crap either, I mean... I KNOW it's crazy that I've had this massive crush on him all these years."

She sighed, thumping her head back into the wood. "Fuck, I just don't know. This is so confusing! I can't... do... stuff... with someone, if there's no..." She faltered, her mouth turning up at one corner as she groaned. She pressed her palm flat against her stomach, trying to push out the butterflies. "I don't want to do stuff with him, then him to just leave and never talk to me again." She rushed in a whisper.

"Well." Phoebe sighed. "You are obviously mental. This is Arnold we are talking about. But I do see what you mean. No fleeting summer romances for you!" She grabbed Helga's socked foot and squeezed it. "He'll understand that... if, or when, he goes in for the kill, just tell him."

Helga just put her head in her hands and groaned.


	6. Chapter 6

Helga paced nervously, her socked feet swishing across the carpet.

"Fucking hurry up Phoebe!" she groaned, balling her hands into fists and pushing them against the butterflies in her stomach.

For the millionth time that night she stepped in front of her mirror and assessed her appearance.

She had decided not to wear 'The Dress' after she had worn it to play basketball with Arnold last weekend, but she had scrounged around her wardrobe and the shops close to her work on her lunch break until she had come up with a grown up version of what she used to wear.

She was in a strapless, high-waisted, raw silk dress. The top was an off-white, and the skirt was dusky pink. She had cinched the waist with a wide red belt, and had managed to find a pair of vintage, off-white, calf length boots. Her hair was in pig-tails, tied low at the back of her head with dark pink ribbon.

She had made up her eyes in smoky greys, and filled in her lips with a pink lipstick that matched the hair ribbons. She liked how she looked in the mirror, but she was so nervous she thought she might throw up.

She was going to see Arnold again… and she had no idea what to do.

Part of her was terrified that he would come onto her, part of her was terrified that he wouldn't. She was nervous enough being around him, without all of their old school friends around. What was she supposed to say to people?

She jumped when her phone went off. Snatching it off her bed, she read the message:

Outside, come down

"Thank god" she murmured, tugged her boots onto her feet, gave herself a last glance in the mirror, grabbed her bag and jacket and almost ran from the apartment, not bothering to say goodbye to her father, stretched out drunk on the sofa.

. . . . . . .

"Oh hey there kids!" Phil grinned as he opened the front door.

"Shitshitshit" Helga's inner monologue was shorting out "It's Arnold's Grandad. I'm in Arnold's house. What the HELL am I doing here?" She squeezed Phoebe's hand. Phoebe squeezed back, and turned to grin up at her as Gerald and Phil shook hands.

"They're all up on the roof, just follow the stairs." Phil stood back to let them pass. "Good to see you again Helga." He winked as she slid past him into the hallway. Helga tried to smile at him, but her face felt frozen.

Gerald chucked as he led them up the stairs to Arnold's room. "Like he needed to tell us where they are… the whole neighborhood can see them up there!" The bass of the music thumped through the air.

They climbed the stairs, passed through Arnold's room, and scaled the step-ladder up to the rooftop. Gerald went first, followed by Phoebe.

"Gerald!" a chorus cheered as Helga watched him step out onto the concrete. Phoebe was just reaching the top of the ladder as Helga stepped up onto the rungs. She was terrified. Her legs felt shaky as she tried to make the climb one handed, holding onto her bag and jacket, and keeping her short, tight skirt at a decent length.

She heard the chorus welcoming Phoebe, and desperately wished she hadn't come. She didn't want to be stared at and exclaimed over by people she didn't know anymore. She took a gulping breath, bit her lower lip, and looked up, wondering how she would step onto the roof without flashing everyone.

Arnold. He leaned over the top of the ladder, looking relaxed and happy. One side of his mouth curled up into a smile.

"Hey Helga." He paused for a second, then reached down to her "Need a hand?"

Without thinking, Helga stretched up. His fingers closed around hers and squeezed gently. Still smiling, he leaned right over and took her bag and jacket from her grasp "Let me take those." His voice was soft, but for a second, it was all she could hear.

With Arnold's help, Helga managed to make it up the stairs without disgracing herself. She was flushed when she finally stepped out onto the roof, her free hand tugged her skirt self-consciously down, and clenched into a fist when a loud gasp was followed by an even louder "HELGA?"

Rhonda rushed forwards as a murmur grew in the crowd. Arnold let Helga's hand go as Rhonda grasped her in a hug. She was exclaiming excitedly, but all Helga could here was Arnold's low chuckle behind her. She heard someone ask him if that was "really Helga? Truly!" and she listened to his amused answer.

Rhonda let her go and held her at arms length, she was still chattering, and Helga tried to make the right noises, but her head was spinning. She heard her name, and turned to face Harold Berman, but all she could see was Arnold, grinning, his fingers running through his hair as he tugged it from in front of his eyes.

She stepped forward into Harold's hug, grinned and congratulated him on his engagement, then was accosted by a mob. She was passed around and clasped and exclaimed at and kissed and squeezed and hugged again, until someone else turned up and they finally turned away from her.

"Sorry about the horde, but you've caused quite a stir, being so elusive and all." She could feel him at her shoulder, his voice made her breath catch. She turned to face him, and felt her heart thump as his eyes looked straight into hers. "Drink?" He passed her back her jacket.

Helga just nodded dumbly and followed Arnold as he led her to long tables set up at one end of the roof. "What would you like?" he asked, gesturing to the Huge array of drinks, on tables and in bins of ice.

Helga swallowed, wishing she could sit down. "Um…" she cleared her throat "Um, just a juice? Gerald has our drinks." Arnold nodded, passed her a plastic cup, and led her to a wooden chair. She sat primly, her knees pressed together, as he pulled a chair up close to hers, and fell into it, his long, skinny legs sprawling out.

He leaned against the back of the chair, watching her. She felt strange, being watched, but the juice wet her throat and her head started to clear, and she finally felt level enough to smile at him. "Thanks." She said, raising the cup a little and attempting another smile.

"Nervous?" he asked, reaching up to tug his hair out of his face again.

Helga spluttered, jerking a hand up to her mouth. She took a breath to make sure she wasn't choking, before she laughed, relaxing into her chair. "That, dear Arnold, is an understatement. I felt like I was an ape from the zoo or something!"

He chuckled, that low, good-natured laugh. "That's not fair! Everyone's just excited." He sighed as they watched the crowd dissipate, and a group of people break off and head in their direction. "Feeling better?" he asked as he stood "Up to facing the feeding frenzy?" Helga nodded, and smiled, and felt her stomach flip as he offered her his hand again.

Again, his long fingers clasped over hers, and she felt the warmth of his palm as he helped her to her feet. The crowd was almost upon them when he stared her straight in the eyes and murmured "You look amazing, by the way. Really." His eyes flitted up and down her, and he took a quick breath before smiling "You're so beautiful."

With that, he gently dropped her hand, turned to meet the approaching people, and left Helga to try get her heart of her throat.


	7. Chapter 7

"ARNOLD!" Arnold jumped as Gerald yelled in his ear.

"Ouch! Fuck, man, what?" He grinned, put an elbow on Gerald's shoulder so he could lean on him, and went back to staring at the tall blonde who was dancing in a crowd.

Gerald sighed grumpily. "Never mind man, you won't remember shit anyways." They stood silent for a minute. Arnold raised his beer to his lips and swallowed, keeping his gaze on Helga. She looked fantastic. Her dress, modest on most people, was SHORT on her long legs. She had turned up in pigtails, but she had tugged her hair free hours ago, and it was swinging heavily against her back.

He studied her, how her boots made her legs look even longer, how when she raised her arms, a gap formed between her skin and the top of her dress. How she danced, kinda slow, swaying, in time to the music. He had been half convinced that she wouldn't show up, but she had been there, wide-eyed and nervous. His mouth had gone dry when he had seen her, her eyes dark, her painted, crazy-full lips.

"So… you gonna go for it?" Gerald interrupted Arnolds reverie.

He took another swig. "If I get even the flimsiest of chances." He said somberly.

Gerald laughed. He caught Phoebe's eye, and gestured for her to come and join them. Phoebe came, grinning, with Helga in tow. "Prove it." He laughed, before swooping down and catching Phoebe around the waist. "You look good enough to eat out there baby, come get a drink with me?" He shot Arnold a meaningful look as her carried Phoebe off to the drinks table, leaving Arnold and Helga standing alone.

"Phew!" Helga sighed and leaned up against the low wall that encircled the rooftop "I haven't danced in forever!" Arnold watched as she lifted the hair from her neck and dropped her head forward. "Sooooo hot!" She groaned, and fanned the back of her neck with one hand.

"Fuck, you can say that again" Arnold murmured beneath his breath, and moved to sit on the wall next to her.

She straightened up, fanning her face with her hands. "God, I could use a drink." She slumped forwards, feigning exhaustion.

"Here". Arnold held his beer out to her, wishing he didn't feel so nervous and stiff, wishing he could just put his arm around her.

She took the bottle and pressed her lips to the neck of it. He watched, transfixed, as she took a long, slow swig. Her throat undulated as she swallowed, her eyes closed, her lips were wet, shining against the green glass. Arnold tore his gaze away and shifted uncomfortably as X-rated thoughts flew unbidden into his head.

He heard the 'glug' as she finished her mouthful and took the bottle from her lips. She sighed contentedly, and pressed the bottle against his hand, leaning her arm against his. "Thanks." She stated simply as he wrapped his hand around the bottle, her fingers beneath his. He meant to take the drink from her hand, but she pressed her arm harder against his, leaning into him, and he slid his fingers further around hers, covering her hand with his own.

They sat like that for minutes, not-quite-holding-hands, as the party raged on around them.

People moved in and out of the crowd of dancers like wax in a lava lamp. Deck chairs had been pulled into a semi-circle, and people lounged on them, talking and shouting. A card-based drinking game of some sort was being played by a bunch of people sitting on the ground. Couples were making out all over the place, the night had grown dark and streetlamps cast long shadows.

"Who's that?" Helga asked, pointing to a tall, brutally good-looking guy, who was talking to Rhonda and Nadine. "He looks familiar."

Arnold laughed. "Stinky." He snorted, "I told you he had changed."

Helga sat upright, breaking the contact between their arms. "No fucking way!" She glared at Arnold. "You're kidding me, right? THAT man, is NOT Stinky!"

"You wanna go say hi?" He asked, reluctant to move, reluctant to share Helga with anyone else, let alone the new-and-improved Stinky Peterson.

Helga paused for a second, then slumped back down against him. Arnold sighed contentedly, then caught his breath for a second as she lay her head on his shoulder. He froze. He didn't dare move.

"Nah." Helga sighed. "I'll talk to him later. What the hell happened to him, anyway?"

Arnold explained how Stinky had been 'discovered' by a talent agency, and was now a model. "Seriously, that guy is raking it in. He can't stand it, but if he saves everything he can for the next couple of years, he can basically retire, and spend the rest of his life gardening."

A wave of excitement and anxiety ran through Arnold as Helga turned to press her face into his shoulder. She was still for a long moment, then collapsed into giggles. He pressed his cheek against her hair, wishing again that he had the guts to grab her. "Oh my GOD!" she wailed "That is so fucked up!" She pulled her head back to get air, but stopped short when their eyes met, the grin falling off her face.

For what felt like an hour, they just stared at each other. Arnold tried to smile, but his face felt rigid with nerves. "Helga…" he started, but had no idea how to finish. What could he say? Should he just kiss her? Those round, full lips were just a breath away from his.

"Fuck." He felt himself frown as he tried to figure out what to say. He watched her forehead crease as he slowly screwed things up. "Fuck it." He took a deep breath. "Helga. I like you. Like, I really, REALLY fucking like you…" He paused again, his breath shook in his lungs as adrenaline shot through him.

"I wanted to say something earlier, but Gerald said to wait till tonight, although now I have, it seems stupid…" he paused for a second, but Helga just sat perfectly still, her mouth open slightly, her eyes wide. "I'm only here for two more weeks, but… I… fuck. I want to see you, if you want."

There was a long silence.

…

…

…

She took a deep breath and slumped back, smiling slightly. "I didn't know you were capable of swearing so much." Her smile broadened.

"Fuck, I'm sorry… I mean.. ah shit. SORRY!" Arnold turned towards her, moved his hand up to quickly shift the bottle out of the way, and hold her hand between his. "Do you think… like… would you want to try and see, um… like…"

Helga giggled, then her face fell again. "Shit Arnold." She growled and shook her head. "Yeah. Yeah, I like you. I couldn't even begin to tell you how much."

Relief flooded through him, he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but she interjected.

"I… I like you. Like… I like-like you." They grinned at that. "But, you're leaving." She sat for a second. "I don't want to… uh… do… stuff?.. and then for you to just leave." Her voice got more and more hesitant, until she finished, and just sat there, her eyes on their hands.

He sighed, relieved. Okay… So she liked him too, but she wasn't into fooling around, or long-distance. At least he knew where he stood. "Okay. I can work with that." He caught her eye as she glanced up at him, her eyebrow raised. "So… will you let me court you when I move back home?" She raised her eyebrow further, he felt his stomach drop. "Assuming of course you haven't been taken while I'm away…"

She laughed, a real grin spreading across her face. He felt his shoulders slump as they relaxed back into each other's company. "Yes, assuming THAT highly likely scenario doesn't eventuate… I would…" Helga's voice dropped, he couldn't be sure in the dark, but he thought she was blushing. "Yeah, Arnold, I would let you court me."


	8. Chapter 8

Helga awoke to her phone ringing, a tinny recording of an old-fashioned telephone piercings her eardrums from where it lay next to her pillow.

Without opening her eyes, she slid her around the sheets until she grabbed it, flicked it open, and held it to her ear.

"Hello?" Her voice came out as a low groan.

She heard that low chuckle, and her eyes snapped open. "Good morning Helga, sorry, did I wake you?" Tingles ran through her hands as she drew her legs closer into her chest and tried to take a breath.

Butterflies gathered into her stomach again as she grinned despite herself. "Yeah, but it's cool. What time is it?"

"Just after ten. I was just wondering… uh, could I take you to lunch? I mean… I know you're coming to the airport later, but…" Helga bit her bottom lip as Arnold dropped his voice "… I want to see you..." he laughed softly "… again."

Helga turned her head and groaned into her pillow. She had been living in a state of constant agitation for the past two weeks. At times she was so turned on she saw stars. Arnold had seen her as often as he could. At first they had gone on heaps of double dates with Phoebe and Gerald, but since Tuesday, when Phoebe had gone back to College, he had taken her out three times, just the two of them.

She had lost count of the number of times she had seriously considered cutting a date short, taking him home, and locking them in her bedroom. At those times, she wouldn't have resisted if he had tried to kiss her, but he never did. He never tried to hold her hand or make up lame excuses to touch her. But the way he looked her, how he smiled at her, the way his voice got low when she knew they were thinking along the same lines…

"Helga? You okay?" Arnold's voice was full of concern. She sighed and rolled onto her back. She didn't want this day to come.

"Yeah, I'm fine… I can be ready by 11, if that isn't too soon?"

…

But that had been hours before, and as they walked through the airport, trying to find the gate for Arnold's flight, Helga tried to figure out where the entire day had gone.

He had turned up at her place at 11, and before he would take her to lunch, he insisted on setting her up a Facebook page and getting her a Skype account. Once that palaver was finished with, they walked down to a little café, where they had coffee and a late breakfast. After that they had just wandered for a while, window shopping and talking, then headed back to Arnold's to finish watching a sci-fi series they had started, before Gerald came to take them to the airport.

After check in, getting some dinner, and poking through the stores, laughing at all the crappy souvenirs, it was time to get Arnold to the boarding gate.

"Sweet, there it is." Arnold pointed down yet another corridor. "Gate 23." They all started heading through the large double doors.

"I'm gonna go get a Yoohoo, I'll meet ya down there." Gerald turned on his heel. "You guys want anything?"

"No thanks." Helga and Arnold smiled in unison. Arnold laughed and turned to her to say something, but seemed to think better of it, and just kept walking, his face suddenly pensive.

They walked down the long corridor in silence. The anxiety that Helga had been fighting off for the past few hours started to buzz in her head. Arnold walked close to her, leading her around the clumps of people that were starting to form, waiting to board.

She was a million miles away when he gently touched her wrist. "There." He murmured, and led her to a kind of alcove, formed by an advertising poster and a column, away from the stream of foot traffic. He sighed and dropped his bag on the floor. They both leaned against the wall and watched people pass by.

After a long moment, he turned to her, his shoulder and head against the wall, the look on his face almost pained. Helga could feel him watching her, but had no idea what to do, she felt like crying, like grabbing him around the waist and begging him not to leave.

"I don't want to leave." He stated. He reached out to touch her wrist, just two fingers rested on the back of her hand.

She stood stock still, what should she say? She couldn't ask him to stay for her.

"Hey, Helga…" he whispered, and she finally turned to him, trying to steady herself with a long, unsteady breath.

His hands rose to the inside of her wrists, brushing her skin with the backs of his fingers. Her stomach lurched, her abdomen cramped. She felt her skin flush. She couldn't look him in the face, but kept her eyes at the base of his throat, watching the skin jump with his pulse. She could see his chest rising and falling as he breathed. His fingers brushed gently up and down the insides of her wrists, sending tingles through her body, making her knees feel weak.

She heard him, watched his chest fall, as he let out a deep breath. She felt his forehead against hers as he lowered his head. "Helga." He breathed. The tingles had turned into a shivering heat. She raised her eyes, pulled her head back a little so she could see his eyes, moving their mouths so close together that she could feel his breath on her lips.

She watched as his gaze flicked down to her mouth, then back up to her eyes. His eyes flicked down again as she bit her bottom lip, and a pained, strangled moan rumbled in his throat.

"Can I kiss you? Please?" his voice was low, shaking. Her stomach wrapped itself into knots. She stared, nodded imperceptibly, her mouth opened slightly, her bottom lip slipped from between her teeth.

"Yeah?" He asked, his hands shook slightly against her wrists, running down to tangle his fingers in hers.

"Yeah." She whispered, her fingers closing around his.

His mouth twitched into a small smile before he closed the distance between them.

There was a second of shock, a disbelief that it was happening, before Helga registered Arnold's lips on hers. Instantly, her breath caught, then pumped in and out of her lungs as adrenaline pumped through her veins. Her fingers closed tighter around his. She felt like melting when he let out a small, deep moan. His lips moved against hers, softer than she had imagined. He shifted his weight, pressing his chest up to hers.

He gently pulled away, letting out a long, whistling breath through his pursed lips. Dropping his forehead back to hers, he slid his fingers from hers and slipped them around her back, holding her close against him. Her hands came up to hold his arms, just above his elbows.

He laughed softly "Oh god, Helga… now I really don't want to go." She felt his fingers moving restlessly against her back. He shifted to kiss the tip of her nose, pulled back to look at her, and tightened his arms around her middle.

Helga couldn't speak, her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth. Arnold just smiled at her. "You okay?" he asked, grinning wider when she nodded. "You're so gorgeous." He breathed. One of his hands came up to brush her cheek, his thumb grazed the corner of her mouth. He groaned again when she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "Especially when you do that." His thumb moved to trace her bottom lip, his eyes watching her intently.

"Whoooo-eee! And to think, I figured it would never happen!" Helga's face turned bright red as Gerald threw his arms around their shoulders, his grin wide. "Phebes will blow a gasket when I tell her!"

Somehow Arnold managed to move them all slightly so that he had Gerald on one side and Helga on the other. Helga didn't pay much attention, her face was burning with embarrassment, her stomach heavy with nerves.

"Hate to ruin the moment guys, but you're flight is boarding, Arnold my man." Gerald slapped Arnold on the back and moved to watch the people filing towards the gate.

Arnold's fingers slid up Helga's ribs, then down the back of her arm, his eyes on her face. She held her arms stiffly at her sides, her eyes cast down at the carpet.

He sighed and took his arm away from her, bent to pick up his bag. He turned to face her, put his fingers against her wrist again. "We okay?" he asked.

Helga tried to force a smile, but her head was reeling. He was leaving, he kissed her and he was leaving. She just wanted him to stay, she knew she couldn't say that, but she couldn't think past that to say anything else of consequence. "Yeah… yeah… I'm just… I'll just miss you." She ended on a whisper.

He smiled. "You have no idea." He sighed. "C'mon, I gotta go."

The three of them moved to stand in line. Helga was silent, but Gerald and Arnold chatted away. Arnold's fingers found hers, brushed her palm, ran up the inside of her wrist as they stood waiting in line.

"well, this is me." He said, his voice overly chipper. He pulled his ticket from where it stuck out of his jacket pocket. "See ya man." He turned to Gerald and grabbed him in a hug, clapping him on the back.

"Sure thing brother." Gerald winked at Helga over Arnold's shoulder.

Then Arnold turned to her. He paused for a second, then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. "Keep in touch. Okay?" he whispered. "I want to hear from you."

Helga's arms found their way to his back, clutched at the back of his jacket. "Okay." She whispered.

Arnold pulled away, smiled ruefully, and tugged his bag up onto his shoulder. He moved to turn away, paused, turned back to her, and in the blink of an eye, stepped forward, wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, and pressed his mouth to hers in a quick, firm kiss.

He stepped back. "You better." He smiled, then turned to walk forward and move through the gate, waving goodbye as he turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

Helga let out a breath, her shoulders sagging. She felt her eyes fill up with tears, but she blinked them away. Gerald threw an arm around her shoulder.

"Come on Sweetheart… let's go get a drink."


	9. Chapter 9

Hi! UPDATES! How amazing :D The change of seasons makes me want to stay in bed all day... so I did :D

A = text/SMS from Arnold

H= from Helga (duh)

When there is no letter, it's just another text from the last person who texted... I had it formatted differently, but the site messed around with it...

._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._ ._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._ ._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._

A- Hey, just got home. What you up to?

H- :D Hi! Gerald n I are just having a drink at Murphey's. Was your flight OK?

A- *jealous* Yer, flight was fine

H- LOL You're welcome to join us :)

- Gerald says to come down and he'll shout you a pint :)

A- I wish :(

H- Me too…

. . . .

A- Can't sleep. You still out?

H- Nah, home. Can't sleep either.

A- You OK? :S

H- Yeah. Just reflecting, and a little drunk.

A- Reflecting? Do tell :)

H- LOL, like you don't know :P

A- Yeah, I know.

- I'm sorry for kissing you, after I said I wouldn't try anything…

H- That's quite alright –blush-

A- Yeah? I've been worrying about it since I left :S

H- Don't worry, you've been a perfect gentleman :)

- It's not like I didn't want to…

A- I wish I was there…

H- God, so do I…

A- ARGH! Fuck this! Can I call you?

H- Please do :)


	10. Chapter 10

It was 6.03pm when Arnold checked his Skype for what seemed like the hundredth time since he had gotten home, flung himself into his favorite armchair, and tried to work on an assignment.

The assignment wasn't working though, his flatmate, Steve, had taken up residence on the sofa opposite, and was giving him grief about his moony-eyed infatuation.

"Man, that chick is smoking fucking hot! Why the fuck did you not stick it to her when you had the chance?" His good-natured smile belied his crass words, but it still sat the wrong way with Arnold.

"Don't. Seriously. You know I fucking hate it when you talk like that." Steve and Arnold had a long-standing debate. Steve was a womanizer. He brought home a new girl seemingly every weekend, and they were not shy about what they got up to, but come Monday morning, they were never seen again. That said, he treated them well, he made it clear that he wanted no more than a couple of days of fun and he always wore a rubber, so Arnold couldn't fault him too much.

It was when Steve tried to get Arnold to do the same that it irked him. More than once, Steve had brought home two girls, in the hopes of getting Arnold to sleep with one of them. It had worked once, and Arnold had felt so bad about it he had dated the girl for two months afterwards. After that, he had just retired to his bedroom when he heard his flatmate drunkenly fumbling with the lock late on Friday nights.

"If she had been up for it, then yeah, I would have…" Arnold paused, he didn't want to say 'fucked her', it sounded far to crass… but 'made love' was just pathetic, plus, the thought of sleeping with Helga had shorted his brain for a second, so he was stuck glaring at the grinning brunette.

"…screwed her… boned her? Rutted? Made sweet sweet music together?" Steve laughed.

"Well, fuck, I would have… whatever you want to call it, I would have done it." Arnold sighed. "But she isn't like the girls that you bring home. Not that there is anything wrong with your girls, and I wouldn't think anything less of Helga if she was like that… but she isn't, so what was I supposed to do?" He glared, then frowned.

"Dude, you sound like a politically correct dating video. 'not that I would think less of her…' but seriously, you're going to give up your game because of some chick in another state that you didn't even schtup?"

"Yes. Fuck man, I don't even have a 'game' to give up. But if I did, then yeah, I still would. It wouldn't be right to shag some dame when I'm trying to… uh… woo… Helga." He felt his cheeks redden at that. Steve often gave him shit for his old-fashioned views, but even more shit for how he sometimes spoke.

To his credit, he seemed to drop it this time though. He just shook his head and chuckled. "I dunno man, I hope she's worth it!" He paused for a second, then grinned again "She definitely has a blow-job mouth! Imagine THOSE lips on ya Johnson! Phwoar!" He pulled a vile face and mimed holding a head down into his crotch, thrusting his hips up off the sofa.

"For fucks sake, you sick bastard." Arnold slammed his laptop shut. "I don't want to hear this shit." He stood up and stomped to his bedroom, fuming.

"Aw, c'mon Arnold! Don't be such a pussy!" Steve wailed from his spot on the couch.

Arnold just ignored him, and settled down on his bed, his laptop on his thighs. He opened ITunes, accessed his favorite blues station (radioio), and tried, once again, to concentrate on his assignment. Within minutes, however, he was mooching through Facebook, and within seconds of that, he was at Helga's page, clicking through the photos of her that others had put up from the party.

He knew he was being pathetic, but he just didn't care at the moment. Comments like the 'blow-job mouth' one were common from Steve, and he could normally brush them off. But he didn't normally have this underlying feeling of guilt. He knew Helga wasn't 'that' kind of person, and he didn't hold it against her in any way… but she really, REALLY turned him on, in a way that he hadn't even known he could be turned on, and the constant tug on his libido was a strain. He had imagined Helga using her 'blow-job' lips on him, more than once, and he couldn't help but feel guilty about it…

He knew that he _shouldn't_ feel bad about his fantasies, that they were completely natural and normal and blah blah blah… but he still did. Maybe it was because he was afraid that they might offend her. With the few other girls he had been with, they _liked _it when he admitted the kinds of thoughts he had… but Helga was different. She didn't try to attract attention to herself like that, she didn't seem to want people to notice that side of her.

He sighed at clicked to the next photo. There were some great shots. Eugene, of all people, was now quite a trendy photographer. The majority of his clumsiness had been fixed when he had been made to wear glasses in high school, and since then, he had come out of the closet, developed an amazingly polished sense of style, and gotten himself a small studio in Hillwood. He had brought his 'casual' camera, a massive, intimidating DSLR to the party, and had offered prints at cost to any of the gang that wanted them. A good guy, Eugene…

Arnold clicked again, and sighed. Scratch that, Eugene was a great guy, an amazing guy, for getting some of these shots.

Of course the picture was of Helga. She was in Arnold's bedroom, where the last little pocket of people had holed themselves up at the end of the night. Everyone had been pretty drunk by that stage, and the atmosphere had turned surreal, slightly lewd, very cozy, and hilarious. Arnold couldn't even remember what she had been doing, but he remembered her doing it. The photo showed her from the knees up, the bookshelves in the background blurred. She had a hand on one hip, leaning forward, shoulders pulled back. Her hair was loose, falling over her shoulders. Her eyes were half closed, her shiny lips in a pouty half smile, the very tip of her tongue showing between her teeth. Her other hand was held towards the camera, Arnold's lucky blue hat dangling from her fingers. Arnold studied the photo, how dots of light were reflected in her eyes, how long her neck was, arching gracefully down to her curved collarbones. How inches down from that, her dress jutted away from her body, but that the skin was hidden by shadow. His eyes kept running back to that strip of shadowed flesh, an adolescent desire making him wish, futilely, that something in the photo would change, every time he raked his eyes across her.

"Fuck" he muttered, wondering if he should 'relieve himself' before Helga logged in and they chatted, in what was fast becoming a daily ritual.

His eyes flicked to the door, checking he had locked it behind him. He moved his laptop onto the bed, undid his fly, and was just raising his hips to shove his pants down, when his computer burst into life.

HELGA PATAKI CALLING…

He grinned, and did his fly back up… the blue balls were totally worth it.


	11. Chapter 11

Hey. Long one this time. Hopefully it's OK... Trying to fit things into a conversation is harder than I imagined.

... ... ... ... ... ...

... ... ... ... ... ...

H- Evening Arnoldo, you still awake? :)

A- Yep, just wrapping up that assignment. You home?

H- Yeah :) Skype?

A- :) yup. Gimme 15?

H- Make it 20, I'll go jump in the shower.

Helga groaned as she slithered off her bed and started to strip off. She wished she was already clean and in bed, it had been a long day. She chucked her clothes in the hamper before she wrapped the big, tatty old winter robe around herself. It was too hot for it, but Nick Vermicelli was still in the apartment, and she would rather be hidden by the thick terry folds of the dressing gown, than the clinging, thin fabric of her silk kimono.

She padded down the hall to the bathroom. She pretty much had exclusive use of it, except when Olga came back to visit. Bob had an ensuite, and there was a separate toilet for guests, so Helga's bathroom was just as she liked it. Clean, with everything she needed at hand, and big, fluffy towels on the heated towel rail.

God she loved that heated rail. After stepping from the shower, that warm towel was lovely. Humming to herself, she roughly dried her hair, wrapped the towel around herself, and stepped out into the hallway, forgetting about Nick until it was too late.

She was almost at her bedroom door when she heard a long, low whistle. She instantly felt her shoulders tense. "Oh fuck off, you creep." She whipped around to glare at Nick, who was leaning against the lounge doorway.

"Aw c'mon Helga." Nick licked his lips, making Helga shudder. He hefted himself off the doorframe, and started towards her, but she scowled, baring her teeth.

"Come anywhere near me, Vermicelli, and I will make you pay." Her voice was low, menacing. She knew that he knew that she could make his life difficult. She watched him hesitate, then stop, unsure. She smiled her shark-like smile and turned back towards her bedroom, acutely conscience of how exposed her legs were. He chuckled as she got to her door and turned the handle.

"One day, little Pataki…" he laughed, before Helga slammed her bedroom door behind her and pushed the lock closed.

Scowling, she quickly combed her hair, tugged on a pair of light cotton PJ's, and climbed into bed. Once she was all set up, curled up on her side with her laptop open on the bed, she opened Skype, took a second to compose herself, then clicked to call Arnold.

In the three seconds it took for him to answer the call, her stomach dropped in that awful, exhilarating way it did every time she contacted him. What if he was just suddenly not interested anymore? What if things turned weird or they got into a fight? What if he figured out that she was just really dull, and too boring to bother with?

Then he was there. His picture went black, stuttered into view, froze, then righted itself. She felt a silly grin spread across her face when she looked at him. He was smiling, his eyes widened slightly, then fell back into their normal, slightly sleepy look. She bit her lip as he pushed his hair back from his face, his eyes flicked up to the camera, then back to the screen.

They just grinned at each other like stupid moony teenagers. After a few moments, Helga finally tore her eyes away from his face, and realized that he was topless. She giggled, then clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. Giggling? Seriously?

Still, she couldn't NOT look at him now that she had noticed. His pronounced collarbones led smoothly to the hollow at the base of his throat. His shoulders were square, what she could see of his arms was muscular, but still reminiscent of the skinny twigs he had as a kid. Her gaze skidded to his chest. His skin looked warm and soft, his chest slightly muscled, but again, he was still recognizable as the skinny boy he used to be. She giggled again, more a snicker this time, when she realized that she was perving at the small, dark nipples of Arnold.

"What's so funny?" Arnolds voice was low, amused. Helga just blushed and shook her head, embarrassed. He stared at her for a moment, then took a deep breath, sinking back into his pillows. "Hi." He smiled.

"Hey." She whispered back.

There was a long pause. "I wish I was there." He said finally, softly, as he pushed his hair back out of his face again. He looked nervous. Her heart leaped in her chest, she pushed a fist up into her ribs, fighting the butterflies.

"Me too."

He grinned. "How was your day?"

Helga sighed a little. This had been happening a bit over the past few days. Things would turn heavy for a second, but then he would change the subject, switching to light-hearted in a the blink of an eye…

"Pretty shit. I ended up seeing Rhonda at lunch though, which surprisingly was better than expected." Rhonda had been bugging her to catch up since the party. She had stopped being so bitchy over the past few years, but she was still a totally nosey gossip.

Arnold frowned. "Are you OK? Why shit?" Helga could have swooned.

"Yeah, yeah, totally. Fridays just tend to be crap at work, and if Bob comes here instead of going to the pub, Nick normally comes with him." She growled a little. God she hated that man.

"Nick?"

"Yeah… you must remember him. Greasy, gold medallion, pig nose. Nick Vermicelli. Bob's business partner."

"Oh yup. Wannabe Italian gangster with the ponytail?"

Helga snorted "Yeah, that one. He's a creepy prick and I hate him. Bob won't hear a bad word against him though, of course." She scowled.

"Why? I mean… what's he done?" Arnold's brow was creased with concern, he had sat up a little and was staring at her face.

"He's just a creep. Been badgering me since I was about… I dunno, he probably started when I was 16?" She shrugged, her damp hair falling in front of her face. She tucked it behind her ear and smiled ruefully.

"Started… what?" Arnold's face was stricken, his eyes wide.

Helga shifted, uncomfortable now. "Just being a creep. Getting too close, cornering me, being all sleazy like." She shrugged again, not looking at him anymore. She could feel her face burning.

"What the fuck?" Arnold's voice was tight. "Does your Dad know?"

"Yeah, of course. He was there when I smacked Nick in the face." She smirked, then her face fell. "Bob doesn't care. He thinks Nick's mad, but he doesn't give a shit that I'm uncomfortable." She shifted again. Torn between a sudden desire to blubber on about all the awful stuff Bob had subjected her to over the years, and the desire to change the subject to something less personal.

"Helga…" Arnold's voice was a raspy groan. She expected him to look sad, but when she looked up, his face was furious. "Fuck… FUCK! He hasn't put his hands on you, has he?"

She shrugged again. "Um, like… he's patted my ass and tried to… uh… press up, against me… and..." she trailed off. Jesus, she had never told anyone this before, trying to form the words made her realize how screwed up it was.

"Fuck! Helga! Why didn't you tell me?" Helga winced and tucked her chin down when Arnold barked. "Shit, I'm sorry. Helga… I'm sorry. I just wish I was there! I could help." He sighed.

They sat in silence for a long minute, Helga chewing at her bottom lip, damning herself for telling him. Arnold staring into space...

"Hey!" He chirped suddenly, his voice bright. "You could stay at the boarding house!"

Helga Baulked. "What?" what did he mean? Stay at the boarding house? His house? When?

Arnold smiled. "If you wanted to stay in my room… I'm sure Grandma and Grandpa wouldn't mind… I mean… I could talk to them, and get you a key. They like you, and… they know I like you…"

Helga stared, tried to swallow. She didn't want his family knowing how messed up her life was! She tried to laugh, but her throat was dry. "It's not that bad, Arnold… I just lock myself in my room, which I do most nights anyway."

"Can I send you a key, just in case? I don't have to tell my Grandparents anything… I can make something up or something. Just so that you have a place to stay if anything happens." Helga shook her head, but Arnold persisted "Please? I need to know that you have somewhere to go. You can just go up to my room and… well… be safe."

"Argh, drop it!" Helga set her teeth. "I've survived six years of this crap with Nick before now!" Helga felt bad as soon as Arnold's face fell, his eyes pleading. "I know you're just trying to help… but I can ruin Nick if he goes too far. He's sent me more than one disturbing email over the years. I'll be fine."

Arnold nodded tersely. "OK. Sorry. I didn't mean to… " he paused, his shoulders slumped, "fuck Helga… I really wish I had been there for you six years ago. I hate that you have put up with this shit for so long."

Helga smiled "You haven't changed a bit, have you?"

Arnold grinned sheepishly back at her. "You don't think?" He laughed when Helga shook her head "Maybe not… is that a bad thing?"

"Not at all." Helga smiled, the butterflies re-grouping in her chest, bumping erratically into her heart.

"No? You didn't seem to like me back in the day…" He raised an eyebrow at her.

Oh shit, tactical mistake… uh, think fast, Pataki. "Uh… yeah, well, um…" fuck fuck fuck "I've changed though, haven't I?"

For just a second, the look on Arnold's face was pure lust. "Ohhhhh yes. You have." His voice dripped suggestion, and for a moment, Helga was floored. Her entire being wanted her to throw her clothes on, jump in a taxi, and take the first plane to his place. She swallowed.

"So, maybe the new me likes the old you."

He laughed "Just maybe?" his voice was low again, his eyes heavy lidded.

Instead of answering, she just groaned. She twisted her face into her pillow and swore, loudly. She fought back the part of her that was reverting back to childhood, the part that wanted to snarl insults at him. She was ashamed that cowardly part of her still existed.

"Hey, Helga" his voice was so soft she barely caught it. She pulled her face up from the pillow and curled back into a ball. "I'm sorry. I…" he took a deep breath "I really like you… as you know… and I don't mean to pressure you. I just… uh… I dunno… I suppose I just want to make sure that you haven't stopped liking me. But if I'm pissing you off, I'll stop…"

Helga gawped. How was he so good at this? Just saying what he felt? She couldn't tell one emotion from the other, let alone her motivation for feeling the way she did. "No… you're not… what? Pissing me off? You mean that?" she gestured towards the pillow. When he nodded, she smiled "Dude… that's… like, that was GOOD swearing. Kinda. I mean…" she gasped, unsure of what to say "I like this, you... I just don't know what I'm doing, or what I am supposed to say, or anything." She finished lamely, feeling instantly stupid and wishing the bed would swallow her up.

"Yeah?" he looked uncomfortable "Cos, sometimes… uh… I kinda get scared that someone else will come steal you out from under my nose…"

Despite trying not to, Helga scoffed. "Uh huh… like who!" She could hear the derisive tone in her voice, and she mentally kicked herself for it.

"Stinky." He blurted out, his cheeks reddening.

"Stinky?" Helga shook herself. "That boy, wiped a BOOGER on me once. He's… Stinky!"

Arnold's little smile was shy, embarrassed. "But you're going for a drink with him tomorrow night, and…" he took a deep breath "and I heard how he was talking about you at the party, not that I disagree with what he was saying, but he's interested…." He paused, but Helga said nothing, so he kept on. "and, well, he's like, you know, all rich and handsome and shit now, and I'm still just… me…"

"But I like you!" Helga cried, her eyes wide.

Arnold shrugged "I'm not trying to make you feel bad, or guilt trip you or anything. If you decide you do like someone else, I won't hold it against you… I just wish I was there…" He sighed.

Helga sighed right back. The conversation wasn't going as sweetly as she had imagined it might. "I've never had a proper boyfriend." She stated softly. Arnold went to say something, but she kept talking "I'm not going to start dating other people, I'm not interested in anyone else… I'm just not like that. If I didn't REALLY like you, I wouldn't have spent so much time with you, I definitely wouldn't have gone to your place to watch movies and stuff…" She faltered, not knowing how to say what she meant.

"I don't just like you because you've paid attention to me. I would still find you attractive if you weren't interested in me…" She was almost whispering by the end, desperately hoping that she wasn't saying too much.

Arnold relaxed again. "OK…" a smile suddenly lit up his face. She melted a little, glad he was happy. "I like that." His smile changed slightly, turning cheeky. "You find me attractive?"

Helga rolled her eyes… "Well, duh… I mean… you know… isn't it obvious?" She kept her tone light, but her heart thumped… she hated being put on the spot like this.

"Hold on." The picture changed as Arnold moved his laptop. There was a flurry of movement, then a few moments of skin, chest and arms and ribs… the long plane of his stomach, dark hair trailing down from his navel to the band of his boxers… Helga's mouth went dry… she tucked herself deeper under the covers and watched as Arnold's face came back into view. He stretched out on his side, his head propped up on his hand.

"So…" Arnold looked shy again, but happy, "does that mean that… you don't just like me for my personality?"

He laughed when Helga shook her head and hid her face behind her hands, mortified. "Tell me to shut up if I'm making you uncomfortable…" his voice was low, suggestive, Helga's pulse was hitching, "but you are the sexiest thing I have ever seen. You drive me fucking crazy."

Helga peeked out from between her fingers, she spoke loud enough for the mic to pick up her voice, but it was muffled behind her hands. "I don't know what to do with myself." She admitted "I've never… like… I haven't…" she groaned and closed her eyes again. This would be so much easier if he was here… she could just show him… the thought tugged at her, making her press her knees together, bite her lip, squeeze her eyes shut…

"This sucks, huh?"

"Uh-huh" Helga nodded.

"Wanna talk about something else?" Helga nodded again. He sighed softly "Did you sort out that stock take thing you were telling me about?""

Helga giggled, god he was sweet. She emerged from behind her hands, and smiled "Nah, enough about my shit day… how are YOU?"…

…

Hours later, after they had said their reluctant goodbyes, and Helga was staring at the ceiling, her mind buzzing, her phone went off. She patted around the blankets until she found it, and flipped it open.

A- This. Sucks.

H- Yes :(

A- I miss you. Sweet dreams, Beautiful.

H- Goodnight Mr. Shortman :)

She threw her phone back onto the bed, groaned, turned on her bedside lamp, and grabbed her Kindle. No point in trying to sleep tonight…


	12. Chapter 12

Helga stood on the pavement outside a corner bar. The neon sign humming steadily overhead read THE TATUM, and the comforting rumble of voices and low jazz music flowed out onto the street.

It was drizzling, a warm, light rain that Helga had always loved. It made the glow of the streetlights fuzz around the edges, it hung instead of falling, collected into dew drops on her hair and eyelashes. It smelt clean and fresh. She took a deep breath and pressed the heavy door open.

Instantly the warmth and the deep, musky smell of whiskey and leather washed over her. She liked this place already. Small groups of old velvety armchairs were clustered around low tables, the bar was a long, thick wooden slab. There was a stage at the back, but it was empty, the music playing was from old recordings, with the telltale 'pop' noises marring the singer's voices. The room was lit from wall sconces, making the whole place warm and cozy, and incredibly sexy.

"Man, I'll have to bring Arnold here." She mumbled to herself as she scanned around the room for Eugene. They caught sight of each other at the same time, he grinned and waved as she approached, grasping her in a quick hug before introducing her to the barman (Samuel) and buying her a drink (a Belgian blonde beer).

"You look fantastic!" Eugene gushed as he led her to the table he had claimed. Helga blushed. She was wearing skintight black jodhpurs and black ankle boots under a long bright turquoise shirt, under her soft leather biker jacket.

She eyeballed Eugene "Not too shabby yourself! Who knew redheads could pull off purple?"

Eugene preened, he looked great and he knew it. The deep purple suit jacket he had on over dark jeans and a dark grey T shirt, made his red, perfectly styled hair look fiery.

"Thanks for meeting up." Helga smiled as she lowered herself into one of the armchairs.

Eugene just waved a hand dismissively at her "Say no more. I figured Stinky would be pursuing you, after how he was talking at Arnolds." He took a small sip of his whiskey, and leaned back into his chair, the picture of elegance. "But, we have a whole hour before he's due to show up, so tell me what's new in your world, and then I'll ask a favor of you." Helga went to speak, but he held up his hand again "No questions yet… tell me… what are you doing now?"

She sighed, playing along. "Not much. Working as a PA slash admin slash girl Friday for a chauvinist."

Eugene nodded "That cellphone place, in the beautiful building with the fantastic florists on the ground floor?"

Helga laughed, "Yes, that place. Now, what were you going to ask me?"

But Eugene shook his head. "Oh no… not yet. There are things that I must know!"

Helga raised an eyebrow, suddenly sure of what he was going to ask about. "Oh yeah? Like what, exactly?"

He grinned. "Mr. Shortman and yourself." He leaned forward in his chair. "Tell me I was seeing what I think I was seeing."

Helga dropped her gaze and stared into the top of her glass. She nodded, biting her bottom lip.

"Oh that is just FANTASTIC!" Helga started at Eugene's exclamation. "Poor Stinky doesn't have a chance! Aren't you excited? After all this time?"

At that, someone could have belted Helga across the head and she wouldn't have blinked. She felt her mouth fall open, but couldn't care enough to close it. He knew? "W-what?" she asked weakly.

"Oh. Don't worry, I never told anyone!" Eugene was grinning from ear to ear "But I could always see how much you liked him, and I always hoped you would get together. You would make such gorgeous children!"

Helga stared. He knew! Who else knew! Shit. She tried to calm herself down. She took a deep gulp of her beer, leaned back and closed her eyes. Fuck fuck fuck.

"Helga, what's the matter?" Eugene's voice was full of concern.

Helga sighed heavily. "Argh. Nothing. Not really. It's just that I didn't think anyone knew…"

"Well, it is just me, and as I said, I never told anyone!"

"But if you figured it out, did anyone else?"

"But… what would that matter?"

Helga paused. She supposed it wouldn't really make much difference. It's not like Eugene knew just how creepily obsessive she had been… "I dunno. I figure I'll end up telling him one day that I had a crush on him at school… but it would be nice to tell him myself."

Eugene laughed. "If anyone else knows, and they haven't told yet… why would they say anything now? Stop worrying!" he took another sip of his drink and grinned "Ok, now tell me how it happened! Are you two 'official' yet? Is he still the charming gentleman he once was?"

So Helga started telling Eugene how everything came about. Broadly at first, but he wanted to know every detail, stopping her to ask questions, until she was saying things out loud that she never thought she would say.

After she was done, Eugene sat back, utterly satisfied. "Well, I suppose I should ask my favor now, Stinky's due soon." He noted her sudden, scared expression, and scoffed "Don't worry! I won't tell a soul." He finished the last sip of his drink and placed the empty glass in the dead center of the table.

"Miss Pataki, would you consider modeling for me?"

It was Helga's turn to scoff. "What? Are you nuts?" She laughed, sure he was joking.

"I swear I am in sound mental health, in full possession of my mental faculties." He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his fingers clasped. "Last year I did the calendar for KMS hair care. It was, if I say so myself, fucking beautiful, and I have managed to swindle the job again this year. I showed my assistant some shots of you from the party, and he agrees with me, that you are perfect for what we have been planning." He looked her straight in the eye, perfectly serious. "What do you think?"

"I am NOT a model!" Helga was incredulous "I mean, why me?"

"Because you're stunning." Eugene stated simply.

Helga was quiet. Stunning? She gaped at him, and he sighed, exasperated "Why don't you come into my studio on Monday evening? You can meet my assistant, Paul, see the last calendar, and look over some of our concept drawings. If you like the idea, then we can take a few test shots, nothing formal. Oh, and you'll be paid. Not sure what exactly, but the last girl got over a grand."

Well, that last bit was definitely tempting. "FINE! I'll come in Monday… You'll have to give me the address."

. . .

"Ahh, Helga!" Eugene tapped at the screen of his Mac, a satisfied grin on his face. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."

Helga craned over him, gawking. She looked so different in the photos.

The shots were basic. A few head shots, and some simples sitting poses against a white backdrop. Eugene has made her change her top, and the soft grey/blue singlet he had put her in made her eyes look brighter, her skin look smoother.

Eugene held one of his concept drawings up to the screen.

"You'll look like a goddamn mermaid!" he grinned. "Please, PLEASE say you'll do it!" His hands were clasped.

Helga groaned, uncomfortable, but exhilarated. "Yeah… Okay Eugene… I'll do it…" she rolled her eyes as Eugene cheered. "Can I get dressed now?" she asked, plucking at the borrowed top as she tried to change the subject.

"Argh. No." He sneered in distaste. "Keep the top, it suits you." He waved a hand at Helga as she tried to object. "Anything to stop you from putting that vile shirt back on." He eyeballed her. "Why on earth do you wear that Condoleezza Rice uniform crap?"

Helga stood still, feeling suddenly very stupid. Her mouth opened, but she had no idea what to say, so she closed it again.

"You're a gorgeous woman." Eugene's voice was soft. "It's easy to see that you aren't comfortable in that stuff… why don't you wear nice tops, or skirts, or something?"

Helga shrugged. "Unprofessional I suppose." She paused, then sighed. "I'm a chick working in a man's world. No one takes me seriously. The last thing I want is to emphasise my girly-ness."

Eugene laughed at that. "Honey… fuck that. I know exactly where you are coming from, and Tomming it does not work."

Huh? "Tomming it?"

"Uncle Tom's Cabin… trying to fit in with with your oppressors in order to get ahead." Eugene pointed at her. "You need to stop doing it."

Helga gaped.

"I'm not having it." He stated firmly. "Come with me." He stood up and made his way across the crowded studio. "PAUL!" he called.

"Oh god no." Helga whispered. Paul, Eugene's assistant, was gorgeous. A solid block of perfect African American male. No way did she want him to see her be humiliated… whatever Eugene had in mind.

Paul stuck his head out from a small office.

"I don't think Gavin will be back for the stock from the last shoot, do you?" Eugene winked.

"Hell no." Paul grinned back, raising an appreciative eyebrow at Helga. "There's that sample stock from Toni's shoot, too."

"Yes!" Eugene bounced up on his toes. "You're a genius!"

"Uh…" Helga stuttered. "Um… what…"

"Shush." Eugene turned to her. "We're going to do the world a favour, and get rid of your work clothes."

"But… uh… Shit Eugene… I'm not your make-over pity project!"

Eugene, to his credit, just rolled his eyes. "Do you trust me?"

"What?"

"Do. You. Trust. Me? It's my job to make people look good, and feel comfortable. I know what I am doing." His voice was stern, but his eyes were gleaming.

She pondered for a moment. He was right, she supposed. She hated what she wore to work. It made her feel scratchy and uncomfortable. She always felt at once conspicuous, and part of the furnishings. Other women at work dressed 'nicely'…

"Ah, fuck it." She sighed. "I have nothing else to do tonight."

Eugene laughed. "I suppose that'll do."


	13. Chapter 13

_Hello everyone!_

_I've hurt myself and I'm on mega painkillers, so if this seems weird, I apologize. I find these purely dialogue bits really hard!_

_I hope you're all enjoying it! Review, people! Tell what I'm doing right, so I can keep doing it, and what I'm doing wrong, so I can stop doing it :D_

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Helga was in a good mood, she was almost skipping as she pushed the glass door open and stepped into her building.

"Helga!" Dave's face split into a grin "How's my favorite Pataki?"

"A box o' fluffies, Dave! How's my favorite bouncer?" Helga shrugged her bag higher onto her shoulder, rearranging the plastic shopping bags in her hands.

"Same old, same old. Almost finished the book you loaned me" he brandished the paperback. _Keep the Aspidistra Flying _by Orwell.

"Cool, I have _Down and Out in Paris and London, _too, if you wanna read it? I can drop it down in a sec?" Dave agreed enthusiastically, and thanked her even more enthusiastically when she dropped a spicy lamb kebab in its greasy paper wrapper onto his desk. "Don't mention it." She waved Dave's offer to pay her back away, before she caught the elevator to her floor, dumped her bag in the hall, and a kebab for Bob on the kitchen bench.

She grabbed the book for Dave, caught the elevator back down, and presented it to him. "Keep that one." She pointed at the book of her Dave was still reading "I have it on my Kindle now anyways. Sophie might like it." Sophie, Dave's daughter was an avid reader, far beyond her years.

"Thanks Helga." Dave smiled "She'll love it. Might I say, you're looking very chipper today."

"HA! Yeah, thanks… It was a good day at work." And it had been. Despite her fears of not being taken seriously, once she had gotten used to wearing less starchy clothes, dressing less stiffly really had made a difference. She felt more comfortable, more confident. She didn't feel like she needed to tug at her collar or check herself over every few minutes, so she was more relaxed. It was something she never would have thought could happen just by changing a few items of clothing, but she was chatting more, speaking up more. It had only been three days, but she felt great!

Swinging her keys on her finger, she pranced over to the letterboxes, unlocked hers (3B) and pulled out the wad of envelopes.

Bills, bills, junk, bills, junk…. Hey. What? An envelope addressed to Helga. Not that rare, but her name was hand written, not printed. She turned it over.

Sender:

Arnold Shortman

Her heart leaped into her throat. She joggled the envelope in her hand; it was heavy. She pressed it between her fingers; there was a small, hard, flat object inside. She groaned… a key.

Safely back in her room, she opened the envelope, slowly, and slipped the single sheet of plain white paper out onto her bed. It was folded neatly into thirds; using both hands, she flattened the letter out. A pink key was taped to the bottom of the page. Carefully, she tugged it out from under the tape, and turned it over in her fingers as she read.

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Helga,

I know you said that you didn't want a key to my place, and I hope you don't take this the wrong way… but I'm sending you one anyway.

I don't mind if you never use it. But I need to know that you have a safe place to stay if you ever need it. Hopefully you never will.

Grandma and Grandpa are fine with you turning up whenever, they didn't even ask for an explanation. They just like having visitors, so if you need my room, there is no reason for you not to use it.

Plus, I want you there. I can't be with you for another few months, so (selfishly) I like knowing that if you need a bed to sleep in, it'll be my bed.

I've tried to write this out three times already. I can't do you justice, so I'll give you someone else's words.

Come to me in my dreams, and then  
By day I shall be well again!  
For so the night will more than pay  
The hopeless longing of the day.

Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,  
A messenger from radiant climes,  
And smile on thy new world, and be  
As kind to others as to me!

Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,  
Come now, and let me dream it truth,  
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,  
And say, My love why sufferest thou?

Come to me in my dreams, and then  
By day I shall be well again!  
For so the night will more than pay  
The hopeless longing of the day.

**Longing **  
by Matthew Arnold

If I don't hear from you again, I'll know I made a big mistake.

I hope I hear from you again.

Arnold

xxx

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Helga sat on the edge of her bed, and just stared at the letter, the newly cut key squeezed tight in her palm.

Did he know what that poem meant, or did he just pick it out of an online list?

Part of her hoped he didn't know, that it just sounded good, so he stuck it on the page, but part of her prayed desperately that he knew exactly what those words would say to her.

Her stomach almost cramped with butterflies, her throat felt small. God please don't let him have used those words lightly… the thought of him not meaning what that poem meant made her dizzy.

She pulled out her phone, and in a moment of temporary insanity, she hastily tapped out a message.

H- The poem… do you mean it?

She waited impatiently, her fingers toying with the key, her eyes reading and re-reading the letter. She jumped when her phone went off.

A- You got it? I was half hoping it got lost in the mail… But yes, if the poem means that I'm a clichéd can't-eat-can't-sleep mess, over you… then I meant it.

She stared, completely unsure of what to say. She swore when the phone leaped in her hands.

A- I really hope I haven't freaked you out. I just don't know what I should be doing, or saying…

Helga still just stared. She had no idea what to say. She tried to tap out a message:

- What does this mean? Do you want to g

No, she deleted it.

- Do you want me to come visit

No, not right either, she deleted it.

- I have no idea what to think. I have been crazy in love with you for so long, that now I just don't have any idea what the fuck I am supposed to do with myself.

She laughed as she deleted the message. "OH MY GOD" she yelled. She threw her phone onto the bed, along with the key, and went to take a shower.

She was still laughing when she came back to her bedroom. What the fuck was going on? She couldn't even think about what that letter might mean, what Arnold might want. She noticed her phone was flashing.

A – I'm sorry Helga, really. I don't know what to say. I wish I hadn't written that stupid fucking letter. I'll leave you be now :)

Helga sighed.

H – I'm ok, just surprised? You home? I can Skype in a few.

A – Thank God. Yes, please :)

So she combed her hair, pulled on an oversized shirt, and climbed into bed. Arnold responded to her Skype call almost instantly. The butterflies went berserk as his picture stuttered onto her screen.

He pushed his fingers through his hair, a small, shy, apologetic smile on his lips. "I feel so fucking stupid." His smile faltered a little.

Helga shook her head. "Don't. I… I liked it. I'm just… overwhelmed." She felt her breath shake a little. "Honestly? I don't know what to do. Like, what we are doing."

Arnold laughed. "I have no idea." He sighed. "I dunno Helga. I'm all, uh, confident… when I talk to you like this. I mean, like…" he smirked "I sound confident, huh?" he laughed ruefully as Helga shook her head. "During the day, when I haven't spoken to you, I start getting all paranoid that you're just going to lose interest… I KNOW it's stupid. I know I should just be patient and shit." He paused, tugging his hair nervously from his face. "Sorry I can't seem to just chill the fuck out." He finished, not looking into the camera.

Helga's insides twisted up. She felt heat behind her eyes, like she was going to cry. Steeling herself, she bit her lip. "This is so FRUSTRATING!" she groaned. "I just… I don't know what I am supposed to do. I don't know if I should say things sometimes…" she grimaced.

"I know what you mean." Arnold smiled, relaxing a little. "There is so much crap I want to say to you, but it doesn't feel right to do it over this…" he gestured to the camera. "I kinda have the feeling that when I see you, though, I won't NEED to talk… not that… not like THAT, but, you know?"

"Oh god." Helga groaned in a low voice, closing her eyes and sinking back into her pillow. "I would so love to not talk."

Arnold faltered. "Whoa. OK, that was really hot." Helga opened her eyes a little and smiled.

"Not really what I was getting at…" she JUST managed to not stop herself from calling him football head. She was all anxious and on edge.

Arnold blushed "Sorry. You are though, hot, I mean." He fidgeted while Helga surveyed him through half-closed eyes. "See, these are the kinds of things that just come out wrong when you try to say them through a camera."

Helga laughed. "It's ok. I'll try be understanding."

"Can I try again?" he asked softly, nestling into his pillow. Helga's stomach clutched at the look on his face. That moony look she had always wanted to be directed at her, but tempered with, well, lust. She nodded, swallowing.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." Helga snorted, but he kept going. "Seriously. I… fuck Helga, there isn't much I wouldn't do to move you here for the rest of the semester. I can't wait to be back in Hillwood." He smiled as Helga blushed. "I have to admit, I've daydreamed about you just turning up on my doorstep… In those daydreams, though, Steve is mysteriously absent and the place is clean…"

Helga shifted, rolling towards the camera, bringing her knees up to her chest. "You want me to visit?"

Arnold grinned, "Oh hell yes, more than almost anything." His lopsided smile grew doleful "But the only place to sleep would be with me. I have wanted to ask you, but I don't want to seem like I'm trying to… yeah…" he drifted off.

"Oh." Helga fidgeted. "I mean, god, I WANT to… visit, I mean… but that would be… uh…"

Arnold chuckled "It's ok. I'm happy enough knowing that I didn't completely blow it with my stupid letter. You aren't angry about the key?"

"I might have been, but…" She smiled "You know you just wasted your money, right?"

"I don't care, as long as you're safe." Arnold whispered.

Helga laughed, picking at the hem of her bedsheet. "Always the white knight." She murmured, not looking at the screen. She couldn't relax properly. She wanted to ask him if anything was different, she wanted to ask him what he wanted, but she was too chicken.

They were quiet for a long time. Helga picked at her sheet, wondered what she was supposed to say, while Arnold watched her, seemingly just as lost for words.

"Are we ok?" he asked finally, in an almost-whisper.

"Yes… Yes! I'm not… like… it's not like you've 'scared me off' or anything. I'm just no good at this! I don't know what I am supposed to say!" She twisted the sheet between her fingers. "I like you, I…" she took a deep breath, hoping to hell that she wouldn't say too much. "I want… this…" she tried to tell him how she felt, but her voice felt stuck.

What the hell was wrong with her? Say it! Say 'You're kind and loving and smart and funny. You're so fucking sexy you give me goosebumps and make me think thoughts I have never thought before. I want. You make me want. Bad.' But she just sat there, feeling like she was about to cry.

Arnold sighed. "Good. I'm glad I didn't fuck it up." He paused, his real smile returning as he finally realized how uncomfortable she was and changed the subject. "So… have you decided whether or not I get to see your modeling shots?"

Helga groaned. "Argh! But it'll be so weird! I'm only gonna be wearing underwear!"

"I know..." Arnold grinned, "…I don't mind."

She giggled (again with the giggling!) relieved that the awkward moment seemed to be over. Drawing her knees up into her chest, she snuggled into her pillow, settling in for the night…


	14. Chapter 14

Helga snatched the ringing phone from its hook, and it promptly flew from her fingers. Swearing, she grasped at the curled cord and pulled it up so she could grab the phone with her other hand.

"Helga speaking" she chirped, putting on her phone voice.

There was a laugh on the other end of the line. "It's just me. There's a delivery down here for you. You gotta come sign."

Helga groaned… stupid deliveries. "It's gotta be me?"

Suzie, the front desk receptionist just laughed again. "Yup, 'fraid so. It's got your name on it. You're due lunch now anyways, aren't ya?"

12.48pm. "Close enough. Alright, I'll be down in a second. Thanks Suze."

"He looks impatient, hurry up." Suzie whispered conspiratorially before she hung up.

Great, a grumpy delivery guy… just what she needed. She pulled her jacket on and grabbed her bag. She stared blankly at the wall in the elevator - Sushi or a burger? Wonder what the parcel is. Hope Arnold's online when I get home. Maybe I'll just grab a roast chicken for dinner, Bob'll like that. Gotta remember to check that auction on Ebay. Need more bubble bath…

She scanned her eyes around the foyer as she stepped out of the elevator. She couldn't see a delivery guy. Some guy was talking to Suzie though… a tall, skinny dude with messy blonde hair… she walked closer, her heart leaping around in her chest. It couldn't be… Suzie spied her walking up, and pointed, the guy turned around.

"Hey." He grinned, smoothing his hair out of his face.

"Arnold?" She felt like pinching herself. What the hell?

He just opened his arms "Hi."

She stepped into his hug, wrapping her arms around his waist. She felt like she was in a dream, what the hell was he doing here?

"What the hell are you doing here?" she mumbled against his throat as his arms encircled her, his cheek pressed against her hair. She felt the rumble of his laugh.

"Surprising you." He said softly.

"Surprise!" She giggled. Feeling suddenly woozy. She pulled back, looked into his face. God, his eyes were amazing. "Are you the delivery?"

He laughed again, and again she felt it, she could have melted.

"Yeah." His eyes searched her face. "Hi." He said again, his voice soft.

"Wanna go for lunch with me?" Helga asked, slowly realizing that she was in the middle of a busy building foyer at lunchtime. Oops.

His arms released her, but somewhat reluctantly. He turned to the receptionist, who was blatantly watching them, her mouth open in shock. "Nice to meet you Suzie… and thanks."

"Uh-huh." She stared as Helga and Arnold left, walking close enough for their arms to bump up against each other at each step.

"How long are you here for?" Helga asked. Please, please let it be for the whole weekend.

"Two weeks." He said simply, glancing at her, smiling when she turned to look at him, her eyes wide. "Mid-semester break. I figure I'll do uni stuff while you're at work."

Her hand came up to her throat. "But… what about your job?"

He shrugged. "Meh, I think they're sick of me mooning around the office anyways. I got that valve project thing finished before I left." He paused to step aside for a lady with a pram. "Seriously, don't worry about that shit. I just… wanted to be here."

Oh god. Helga was blushing, she could feel the heat creeping up her neck. "I'm glad you're here."

… … …


	15. Chapter 15

Arnold stretched out between his sheets, arching his back as her slid his hands under his head. He felt good.

In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he felt this good, and he didn't have to guess why.

This last week, he had spent as much time with Helga as he possibly could. Meeting her after work, taking her home as late as he could get away with…

She amazed him. She was so different to how she used to be. Or maybe she wasn't, maybe none of them just ever given her a decent chance to show this side of herself. She was so smart, so much funnier than he ever realized. He had never enjoyed spending time with any girl as much as he did with her.

Although it was hard to hold himself back sometimes, she was becoming more and more relaxed around him, and he didn't want to ruin that by rushing her.

She touched him more easily, which was good. She didn't flinch anymore when they bumped up against each other while walking, or when their fingers met by accident. They didn't yet hold hands, or 'cuddle up' when watching movies, even though he desperately wanted to. She sometimes kinda of leaned against him, or sat with her thigh against his, but for the most part, they seemed to have settled into a kind of routine, where they hugged when saying hello and goodbye, but didn't really touch each other while just hanging out.

Some of those hugs though… the night before, as they had said goodbye, they had just stood in the shadows in front of her building. She had nestled her face in the crook of his neck, her arms not around him, but her palms splayed flat on his chest, her fingers brushing his collarbones, her breath warm on his skin…

He sighed and rolled out of bed. He still had uni assignments to do, it would be nice to get one finished today. He was meeting Helga at 8, to take her to some jazz bar. He had – he checked his clock – nine hours till then, plenty of time…

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

8.13pm. Arnold had been waiting outside Helga's building for ages, and he was officially worried. She hadn't replied to a text for an hour, and her phone went straight to voicemail.

"Hi!" He tried to sound cheerful as he pushed open the glass doors and greeted the security guy behind his desk. "Uh, do you know if the Pataki's are in?"

The guy looked stricken. "Oh, you're Helga's, uh, friend… sorry buddy, I, uh, hate to be the one to tell you this, but her pa's been taken to hospital."

Arnold felt a thousand things at once. Relief, that Helga was alright, worry, for both Helga and Bob, and a tiny, shameful smidgen of relief that she hadn't just been blowing him off. Being in a hospital would explain why her phone was off. "Shit. Bob? Do you know what happened?"

The guy shrugged "Heart attack, looks like. Can't say I'm surprised. Poor Helga looked a mess though." He looked Arnold up and down. "They're over at Hillwood Central, if you want to go check up on her?"

Arnold nodded. "Yeah. I will. Thanks man." He turned to leave. All of a sudden feeling like there was cotton wool in his ears. Shit shit shit, he hoped Helga was coping ok on her own there.

"Send her my love, 'k?" The doorman smiled at him. "Bob too, I suppose."

Arnold nodded, but barely heard what Dave was saying. He was anxious, restless, felt like running to the hospital. He hailed a cab, almost leaping into the path of the taxi to get it to stop. The ride, talking to the receptionist, taking the elevator and speeding down the halls as fast as he could without actually breaking into a run, were all done on autopilot. He didn't really register anything, until he came to a small dreary waiting area.

Helga was slumped over on a utilitarian grey chair. Her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands. She looked tiny. His heart broke for her. But she wasn't alone. Nick Vermicelli, his greasy, polyester clad arm across Helga's shoulders, looked up at him. How fucking dare that prick touch her. A wave of protective rage rose in his stomach.

He stopped dead, about three feet away, swallowed his anger. "Helga?" he croaked. Her head jerked up, her eyes looked massive, even for her. Her face was Pale and drawn.

Her bottom lip trembled as she stared at him. "Arnold?" She sat up straight, shrugged Nick's arm off her shoulders, and stared. "I'm sorry I stood you up." Her voice so small he could barely hear her. Oh god, she looked so miserable. He moved up to her and bobbed down, balancing on the balls of his feet, so that they were face to face.

"Don't worry about that." He said softly, soothingly. His hand automatically came up to gently brush her cheek, to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. He tried to ignore the smarmy sneer on Nick's face. "Are you ok? Can I get you anything?"

Her hands shook as they came down to grab his. She held onto to him, her fingers dug into his. Her big blue eyes stared into his face. "Just… stay?" her voice shook along with her hands. He nodded, not moving, just staring straight back at her.

"I'm not going anywhere." He gripped her hands. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on hers. "What's happening? Is… Is Bob going to be alright?"

"That's what we're waiting to find out." She murmured. God, he could feel her tension. Her body was stiff, hunched. He gently tugged one of his hands free and ran it up the back of her neck, squeezing gently, rubbing his fingers tenderly up and down at the base of her skull. She raised a hand to cover his, as if to make sure that it was real. "It was so scary." She whispered. "Like something out of a movie. One minute he's screaming at me, his face all red and… and snarly… the next he's clutching at his chest and gasping."

"Oh love." Arnold squeezed her hand tighter. "You poor thing. That must have been terrifying." Her fingers closed convulsively around his. He could hear her trying to control her breathing.

They jerked when Nick cleared his throat. Standing, he glared at Arnold, and sneered at Helga. "Call me when you find out what's happening, yeah?" he barked. Helga nodded dumbly.

As soon as Nick stomped off, shooting them back dirty looks, Arnold stood and moved to sit in the chair next to Helga. Without letting go of her hand, he put his other arm around her shoulder, gripping at the top of her arm, pulling her gently into his chest. She leaned gratefully against him. She pulled her feet up onto the chair and nestled into him. Despite the awful circumstance, and the armrest digging into him, he couldn't help but enjoy it a little.

"Thank god you're here." She groaned, letting her head loll against his shoulder. "I couldn't get him to leave." He wrapped his arm tighter around her, kissed the part of her hair, leaned his cheek against her, and held her as she shook…


	16. Chapter 16

Helga was silent on the taxi ride home.

"Are you sure you want to go back to yours?" Arnold had asked her softly as he helped her into the car. "You're welcome to stay at my place."

"Thanks." She had replied, truly grateful, but really just wanting to sleep in her own bed. "Really. But I just want to go home." She slid along the seat, making room for him to climb in next to her.

As the car pulled off, Arnold put his arm around her again, and she leaned heavily into him, her mind a million miles away.

Bob was alive, but sick. They had performed an emergency surgery, and inserted stents in his arteries, or something like that. She couldn't concentrate properly while the doctor was explaining everything. Anyway, he'd be in hospital recovering for a while, then home. Where he would need care, and a complete lifestyle revamp.

Caring for Bob. Her worst nightmare.

Her mother had found it so stressful that she had drunken herself to the grave… and that was just trying to please him, Helga had to nurse him, and force him to do things he wouldn't want to do (like eating vegetables). He had turned into such a mean old shit since Miriam died, that Helga could barely stand being in the same room as him, let alone interacting with him on any real level.

She genuinely wished that he had just died, and knowing that she wished that made her feel so amazingly guilty that she kept feeling like she was going to throw up.

She pressed harder into Arnold. He shifted closer and held her tighter. Man, if one good thing had come out of this…

But try as she did to focus on how nice it was to be in Arnold's arms, her mind kept coming back to how she was going to have to play nurse to her horrible, demanding father. She tried some mental calculations. She had been saving most of her paycheck since she left school. She hadn't looked at her balance recently, but it might be enough for a deposit on a small apartment. Bob could afford to pay for a nurse, he just wouldn't bother if she was around.

She sighed. Fuck. She didn't want to live there anymore. She had stopped noticing how oppressive and goddamned depressing living there had been, until she started hanging out with Arnold. Now, she never wanted to go home. Half the appeal of heading back home now was because she knew Bob wouldn't be there.

The taxi pulled up outside her building. She reached for her wallet, but in her rush, she hadn't grabbed her bag.

"I got it." Arnold smiled, and handed the driver a twenty. "Keep the change."

Helga opened the door and climbed out of the car before Arnold could come around and open it for her. He caught her hand as she moved to go inside. "Do you want me to come up with you?" He asked, his eyes solemn, questioning.

Helga smiled. He was just so… gentlemanly! "Yes… please."

Dave was still at the desk, he let them into Helga's apartment, and gave her a hug before he left. Helga closed the door behind him and slumped against it, pressing her face up against the cool wood.

"I feel like I've been hit by a truck." She groaned, her voice muffled. She struggled up and smiled weakly at Arnold. "Hungry?" She asked?

"Starving." Arnold replied, rubbing his stomach. "I can go get us something if you like."

Helga shook her head. "There'll be something here, or we can order in." she leaned against the wall as she struggled out of her boots. "Fancy Thai?"

As they waited for the food to turn up, they slouched around the place. Arnold helped her clean up a glass that had been knocked off the counter and smashed when Bob had gone down. Helga put a stack of empty beer bottles in the recycling and left a message on the office answerphone, saying why she wouldn't be at work in the morning. Arnold put the kettle on and made a cup of tea. They were quiet, they hardly talked at all, like they had been doing this together for years.

It was amazing.

Helga had never had companionable silence with anyone but Phoebe before. She was so used to the silences in her life being tense, filled with either simmering anger or loneliness, that she once again realized how horrible her life with her father was.

She was staring into space when Arnold set a mug by her elbow. "Hope it's ok." He smiled. "Milky, no sugar, right?"

Helga nodded and took a sip, absolutely glowing from the attention. "Perfect." She used her free hand to jab him lightly in the ribs. "Thanks. Wanna watch a movie?" what she really wanted was to go to bed, but she wanted him to stay longer even more.

He moved closer, bumping her hip with his. "Sure. What you got in mind?"

So they set up the lounge, pulled the coffee table in so they could rest their feet on it, pulled cushions off the armchairs and added them to those on the sofa, got out plates and cutlery ready for their (already late) Thai food. They sat shoulder to shoulder as they went through all of the DVDs, and sat thigh to thigh as they went through the movies on Helga's laptop. Eventually they settled on the first Die Hard movie, and put the DVD into the player, just as the delivery guy knocked at the door.

It was perfect.

After they finished the food, Arnold stretched out, his socked feet on the coffee table, half leaning against the piled up cushions. "C'mere." He whispered, just as McClane got the C4 from the dead henchman. Helga bit her lip. Oh my god. With her feet tucked under herself, she snuggled in under his arm. This wasn't like in the cab, where he had held to for comfort, this was… couple stuff.

The companionable silence was replaced with a sweet tension. She wriggled even further into him. She tentatively reached out and placed her fingertips against his ribs. She felt him shift a little, and looked up to see him looking down at her. He lowered his head to press his forehead against hers. "This is nice." His voice was a whisper, and his fingers squeezed at the top of her arm.

"Yeah…" and it was. It was better than nice, it was amazing. She felt her breath catch a little as the enormity of what was happening hit her. Arnold. She was here, with Arnold. She felt her body stiffen, she was excited, yet terrified.

"You ok?" He asked, pulling back a little to look at her face. But she just nodded dumbly in reply, biting her lip. "Good." He smiled, and leaned back further into the cushions, turning slightly and pulling Helga with him, so that she was almost half-lying on him…

…By the time the movie finished, she basically was lying on him. They were stretched out side by side on the massive sofa. Him with one arm around her shoulders and one hand behind his head, turned to face the TV. Her snuggled between him and the back of the sofa, her head and hand on his chest, her leg over his. She wasn't paying any attention to the movie, she had been sleepily wondering how hairy his legs were, how they would feel against hers.

"hmmmmmmm" Arnold groaned groggily. "Sleepy yet?" He twisted around a little, forcing her to heft herself up and settle against him again.

She shifted against him. "Yeah, getting that way." She stifled a yawn.

His hand moved from under his head to stroke her face with the backs of his fingers. "I suppose I better get going, huh?" he asked, but made no move to leave.

Helga shook her head. "Nah…" she took a deep breath, forced herself to meet his gaze "…stay."

There was a long pause as they just stared at each other. He let out a long breath. "I want to..." He paused again "…I'll sleep out here?" He said it like it was a question, but it sounded like a statement.

Helga fidgeted. "You don't… have to…" she started.

"Yeah I do." He sighed. "I do. You're too tempting." He shifted, grimacing when she broke their eye contact. "Argh. I'm trying to be the gentleman here. I can't sleep WITH you, but I'll be here when you wake up." His fingers moved to cup her chin, tilt her head up so that she was forced to look at him. When their eyes met, he smiled. "Is that ok?"

She nodded. She so desperately just wanted him with her, but she understood.

He looked unconvinced. She nodded again, then sighed, defeated. "Yeah. It's ok. I'll get you a blanket."


	17. Chapter 17

Arnold couldn't sleep.

He just lay on his back on the Pataki's massive leather sofa, and dozed.

He was happy enough, warm and comfortable, but he couldn't quite drop off into proper sleep. For one, he was starting to succumb to blue balls. It wasn't painful yet, just kinda uncomfortable. A tight feeling that made him want to shift about. Having Helga draped over him for hours had been sweet agony. Thankfully he had taken his T-shirt off to sleep, so although the smell of her hair still clung to the pillows, it wasn't as strong - or at torturous - as it might have been.

This could be easily remedied of course, but there was no way he was about to 'relieve himself' in her apartment. Actually, it wasn't even the main thing keeping him awake. He was worried about her. Not just in the way he had been worrying about her for the past months (although that was still there), but more concerned about how she would cope looking after Bob.

He had seen how her face had turned white while the doctor was explaining everything, and he was worried. Worried worried worried. He had no idea what to do for her, or how to offer his help. In his half-asleep state he kept dreaming up crazy solutions (Move in with me! Sharing the bed thing an issue? No problem… lets get married!), but they really were just insane. He couldn't think of anything realistic that he could help with, and it killed him.

Sighing in frustration, he rolled onto his side, scrunching his pillow up under his head. God he was stupid. He should have just gone to bed with her. Now he didn't know if she was sound asleep, or freaking out, all alone… Sure, he was trying to do the right thing, but he could have controlled himself. Should he go check on her? It seemed really goddamned creepy, but what if she was…

"Arnold?" He jumped at the whisper. God, he hadn't even heard her come in. He hefted himself up on his elbow.

"Sorry… did I wake you?" Her voice was small, cracked. She was standing at the end of the sofa, her arms wrapped around her chest. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a small T shirt, her long, white limbs and loose blonde hair made her look like a ghost.

"Nah, couldn't sleep. You ok?" Like fuck she was ok, he could tell from here, in the dark, that she was a mess. She shuffled round to the front of the sofa, moving like her bones were liable to break at any second. She moved like she was in pain.

"I… I couldn't sleep either."

Oh god. She was heartbreaking. Without thinking, Arnold shuffled to the back of the sofa, pulled back the blanket, and opened his arms. She stared for a second, then moved forward hesitantly. When he finally had his arms around her, she felt more frail, yet more tense, than he had ever thought possible.

Her arms were still hugged around her chest, her back stiff, yet hunched, pressing the top of her head into the base of his throat. He stroked her hair, and she started to tremble.

She didn't just shudder, she quaked. Deep, thunderous rolls of violent tremors that seemed to radiate out from the center of her. The only thing he could liken it to was when one of his cats had been hit by a car, and on the way to the vet, she had died in his hands. Helga's thuddering shakes scared the shit out of him, they were fucking death throes.

He held her tighter, trying to brace her against her own convulsive shivers. But they kept coming, and they felt like they were getting worse. Her teeth chattered together, she started to double up with every new wave of quakes, like she was in pain. She must be in shock, the massive events and trauma of the evening finally catching up with her.

"I…" she tried to talk, but her breath was pumping in and out of her lungs too fast, hyperventilating. She just stuttered, in a long, depressing judder. "I…I…I…I…I…I…I…I…" She stopped trying to talk, and just lay there, gasping.

Distressed, he grasped at her, her pulled her into his chest. He couldn't stand it, her shaking. He felt tears prick at his eyes as he whispered to her, nonsensical nothings in a low voice. He had never seen anyone break down like this, he felt useless, completely and utterly useless. Struggling with her wooden, stiff body, he managed to half sit up against the mound of pillows. Cradling her against him, he gathered her up in his arms, pressed his cheek to hers, and hummed, a random lullaby tune. He tried to hold her together.

Slowly, he had no idea how long it took, but it felt like hours, her shaking quieted. She still trembled, but not in the scary, bone-shattering way she had been. She unclasped her hands and edged them tentatively around him, making him aware for the first time since she had gotten into bed with him, that he was only wearing boxers.

Her fingers crept over his bare skin, eventually wedging themselves between him ribs and his upper arm. Snuggling right up against him, she let out a long, shuddering breath, and relaxed a little.

Not much, she was still coiled tight, but enough so that she didn't feel brittle in his arms.

"S… sorry." She whispered, her lips brushing his collarbone as she nestled further into him. "Sorry…"

"Shhhhhhhhh." He stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head, brushed her cheek, feeling almost light headed with relief that she wasn't the complete mess she had been before. "Nothing to be sorry for. I'm glad I'm here." And he was. The thought of her going through that alone turned his stomach to ice.

"I…. I don't want him to come back." Her voice was so soft, he could barely hear it. "I don't want to look after him. I don't want to… he's such a… cunt… I can't stand it."

He knew he was pressing it, Helga rarely, if ever, volunteered information like this, but he needed to know. "What does he do? What… he doesn't… hurt you?"

He felt a tremor run through her, and clutched her to him, terrified.

"Not often." She took a deep breath. "He was worst after Miriam died, he just doesn't care now. Like…" she paused again. "He… he slaps me a bit, if he's angry. But he hasn't _hurt_ me in years." She was whispering.

Arnold stayed silent, sure that he was incapable of saying the right thing. He had never had to deal with this stuff before, not like this.

"He threw that glass at me… the one we cleaned up." Helga's voice was starting to crack again. Arnold stroked her back, letting his fingers run up the back of her neck, into her hair. "He was angry because I was spending too much time with you. Not because he cares, but because I hadn't washed a shirt he wanted clean… _I can't_ do it Arnold… I just can't. I'll go crazy if I stay here with him."

She hiccupped, swallowing convulsively. "He wants me to fuck Nick…" she approached a wail, the despair in her voice killed him. Anger, sadness, helplessness, possessiveness… they roiled in his stomach. Adrenaline rushed through him. He wanted to Punch someone, to fuck, to go for a run… but there was no way he was letting go of her.

"He thinks that I should do it to make Nick happy." She hiccupped again, then sobbed. She lowered her voice into a sick imitation of Bob's "If you're so sick of him pawing over you, just suck his fucking cock and get it over with already."

It was Arnold's turn to shake. He kept a hold on himself while fury choked him. Refusing to move, or talk, lest he go completely berserk, he just kept holding her, stroking her back.

"I can't… I can't do it. I won't." her voice wavered, and she burst into tears. The fury lessened, tempered with pity. He hadn't seen Helga cry since… shit, he had never seen her cry that he could remember. She wailed like a little kid, gasping and hiccupping, her entire body wracked with sobs. She sniffed and whimpered, her tears saturating her face, Arnold's neck and chest, the pillow beneath them…

He held her.


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey there! Was just thinking, do you think it would be too disruptive to switch to writing in the first person? Let me know, please :)**

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Helga woke confused, unsure of where she was for a second. The first thing she realized was that she was in the lounge, asleep on the sofa… something she hadn't done for a decade. The second thing she realized was that there was an arm draped over her waist, the hand at the end of it tucked under her, holding her close to… Arnold.

It all came back, her breakdown the night before. Oh god, she could die of embarrassment. What the HELL had gotten into her? Crawling, sniveling to Arnold in the middle of the night like she was a child who had wet the bed.

How utterly humiliating.

No wonder she felt like shit, too. Her head was sore and her throat was dry. The skin on her face felt all tight and funny… she probably had massive puffy alien eyes, too. Goddamn it, her first night with Arnold and she had to act like a precious little freak.

She must have shifted or something, because he made a little noise behind her. She melted. She was here, in the arms of Arnold Shortman. She was finding out what sweet little waking-up noises he made.

God, she really needed a glass of water, and to pee.

"You awake?" Arnold's whisper was soft, definitely trying to NOT wake her if he was wrong and she was still sleeping.

"mmmmmmmm." She grumbled, and shifted against him. She noticed things that she hadn't noticed last night. The hair of the front of his thighs was tickling the skin on the backs of hers. The skin at the back of her neck was hot and damp from his breath.

"How you feeling?" he nuzzled into the back of her neck. Oh crap, despite everything, that warm glow started building up, low, low in her belly.

She tried to laugh "Not as bad as I probably look." She quipped.

He squeezed her, pulling her in close, and kissed the back of her neck. Whoa. That upped the 'glow'. Do it again.

"You sound better." His face rubbed against her. She felt him inhale. Holy shit, was he _smelling her hair_? How could that turn her on so much?

"I _feel _better." She shifted a little, feeling the roughness of his legs. "Thanks… for putting up with me, I mean."

"It's not putting up with you." He stated firmly. "I _want _to be here. I'm glad I was here."

She sighed. She couldn't ignore her bladder anymore. "I gotta get up." She said, regretfully. He squeezed her again, then removed his arm. She struggled upright, her head protesting as she did so.

She turned to face him, steeling herself for the punch. Oh god, there it is. His green eyes were half closed, the look on his face completely content. "Uh. Help yourself to coffee or whatever." She gestured to the kitchen. She wracked her brain for something hospitable to offer "Um… want a toothbrush?"

His sudden laugh made her flinch. "Yeah, actually, that would be awesome." He smiled, hefting himself up. "You take two sugars and milk, yes?"

Ten minutes later, she felt much more human. She'd pee'd, splashed her face with cold water, brushed her hair, brushed her teeth, downed what felt like a quart of water, and was sitting at the kitchen table, her knees tucked up to her chest, her feet on the chair, sipping a hot coffee.

Sitting across from her, Arnold stretched. She watched as he raised his arms, pulling his T shirt up and exposing a stretch of skin between his jeans and his T shirt. He was so gorgeous. His blonde hair was messy, falling in front of his eyes.

"So… what are you doing today?" He asked, settling back into his seat and taking a swig of his coffee.

She shrugged "No idea…" she glanced at the clock, it was only half past nine, no wonder she felt so sluggish. "Have you got any plans?"

"That totally depends on you." He reached out under the table and nudged her toes with his foot. "If you want me to stay or go… or go and come back, or whatever."

"I, uh… I dunno." Helga stuttered. She wanted him to stay, she desperately wanted him to stay… but she didn't want to seem clingy or anything, especially after the spectacle she had made out of herself the night before. "I mean… I don't want you to go, but if you have stuff to do…"

Arnold chuckled, then sighed. He put his mug down and leaned forward. "Alright Miss…" he took a breath "I don't want to leave… but I don't want to crowd you."

Helga blushed. Why, why couldn't she just tell him that she wanted him to stay with her? She swallowed, tried to speak, but the words just stuck in her throat. She peeked up at him, he was watching her, the orange Autumn light was behind him, making his hair look more golden than usual. He smiled at her, waiting for her to say something.

GOD, look at him… her stomach was twisting up in knots. He was holding her gaze… she smiled shyly, aware that she was being a complete dork… his smile grew wider, exposing his slightly crooked eye teeth. Her stomach twinged, she tensed her thighs. She opened her mouth, and croaked out in a whisper, "Stay."

His smile grew even wider, showing more of his teeth. "Okay." Blushing furiously, she finally broke their gaze and focused on her mug. She heard him push his chair back. "You hungry?" he asked "Wanna go get breakfast or something?"

They decided they couldn't be bothered leaving the house, so they made eggs on toast and ate it in companionable silence together in the kitchen. They cleared away the dishes, and Arnold was boiling the kettle to make another coffee when his cellphone went off.

"Hey Grandpa." He leaned against the bench, smiling thanks to Helga as she took over the coffee making. She tried to rinse out the plunger as quietly as she could.

"Nah, I'm fine. I just stayed the night at Helga's." there was a pause, and Arnold lowered the phone. "Do you mind if I tell him about Bob?" he asked, his face concerned.

Helga shook her head "Nope, that's sweet." She shivered a little when he reached out to touch her hand.

"It's not like that, her father had a heart attack last night, and I didn't want to leave her by herself…" there was a pause, but Helga couldn't make out what Phil was saying. "Yeah, Bob… Yes, Big Bob…." He sighed, laughing slightly. "Yes Grandpa, Helga is _that _Helga… Pataki."

There was another pause. "Tell Grandma it's fine, I slept on the sofa… No, of course I didn't! Tell her I was a perfect gentleman…"

Helga was measuring out scoops of coffee for the plunger, she gasped as Arnold's arm suddenly caught her around the waist and pulled her close to him. The scoop clattered to the bench top, spilling the grinds. She put her hands flat against Arnold's chest, stared up into his face.

'_Sorry'_ he mouthed, but he didn't look sorry, he looked, well, amorous. "I won't be home for dinner… It's fine, sorry…" Arnold's face was just an inch from hers, his eyes studied her, his fingers pressed into her back. From this close, she should have been able to hear snatches of Phil's voice, but the blood was thumping too hard in her ears…

"Alright, see you tomorrow… You too… Bye." He hung up and dropped his phone onto the bench before wrapping his other arm around her waist.

"Hi." He said softly, his huge grin growing even larger at Helga's wide-eyed silence. She didn't know what to do… "You ok?" he asked, sliding his bare feet out a little, nestling her a little more snugly against him.

She nodded, letting her fingers crawl up a little, sliding her hands around his neck.

"Good… my grandparents are concerned that I may be corrupting your purity…"

_If only… _She thought to herself, but outwardly she just blushed and dropped her head.

She drew in a long, shuddering breath as Arnold nuzzled his face against her ear, breathing gently "They're old fashioned like that…" Her legs were turning to jelly, he held her tighter and kissed her, very gently, just below her ear. "…I don't want to do anything that compromises your morals…" she could hear the laughter in his voice, but at the same time, he shook, his entire body was tense "…I want you to be comfortable…" she got the feeling he was just rambling now, god, was he actually nervous?

His hands started moving, roving up and down her ribs, while he whispered increasingly nonsensical nothings into her ear. His lips grazed the skin on her neck, her pajama top bunched up under his hands, and his fingers met her skin. She whimpered, he groaned at the noise and nudged her face with his, asking her to turn to him…

He pressed his lips to the base of her throat, forcing her to lean her head back… her fingers moved up the back of his neck, into his hair… _fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck… _He was dotting kisses against her skin, brushing his lips lightly against her… a low, humming groan rumbled against her throat…

Eventually, his lips met her jaw, she shuddered, sure that if he let go now she would slide to the floor. His hands moved under her top, grasping her ribs, crushing her against him, pressing them hard up against each other…

He pulled his head back, searched her face… without meaning to, she pressed against him, feeling how they fit together from chest to… to… he groaned and moved forward, brushed his lips across hers, so softly she could barely feel it.

The breath was pumping in and out of her lungs, the warmth in her belly was burning her up… not thinking, just acting, she leaned more heavily into him, trying to close the gap between them… She heard the satisfied huff of breath as Arnold stopped trying to judge the situation, and just gave in…

…and they were kissing…

Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair, she leaned into him, reveling in how he hefted her up against him, how he shifted under her… He pulled back briefly, gasping, and stared at her for a second. "Whoa…" he groaned, before lowering his mouth back to hers.

His lips were soft, they moved across hers, alternatively pressing hard against, and dotting small, teasing kisses to her lower lip. _Not enough… _She could feel him holding back, trying to be gentle. She made an impatient noise, and acting purely on impulse, ran her tongue along the inside of his top lip…

He stumbled, a foot sliding out from underneath them. Breaking apart, he grinned goofily as he tried to stop them from falling to the floor. When they were safely upright, he turned his attention back to her, kissing her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks… "Fuck…" he whispered… but Helga interrupted him, pressing her lips to his, wanting him. He groaned, and she shifted against him, her insides somersaulting as he grasped at her, moaning against her mouth…

…there was a bang at the front door.

They stiffened straight away. "You gotta be kidding me." Helga growled as they pulled apart.

Arnold chuckled, although his face was dark. "Expecting anyone?" He asked. He set her down on, making sure she was steady before loosening his grip on her.

There was another bang at the door, followed by a few short, loud raps. Helga frowned, who the hell?

""_Helga! Lemme in!" _a voice traveled faintly from the other end of the apartment. Her stomach dropped.

"Oh god… " she moaned, putting her hands over her face. "Nick."


	19. Chapter 19

Arnold watched the blood drain from Helga's face… any hatred he harboured for Nick was amplified in that moment. Everything had been going so well! Better than he had ever hoped for.

He felt his jaw clench.

"Want me to tell him to fuck off?" He winced as Nick pounded at the door again.

Helga just nodded, looking miserable. He turned on his heel and strode down the hallway.

Standing at the door, he took a second. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to relax, he un-clenched his jaw, and his fists, and shook himself before he opened the door.

Nick was a mess, scruffy, dirty looking, with his greasy hair half falling out of it's thinning ponytail. Leaning against the doorframe, he wobbled upright as he realised who was standing in front of him.

"Lemme in." he growled. Arnold sneered in distaste, he REEKED of stale booze. "Left something here."

Arnold stepped in front of him, barring his way. "What? I'll go get it for you."

Nick ranted a bit about how he could get it, how he could find it, but Arnold just stared at him, trying to keep calm. "Look, I'm not going to let someone I don't trust into Helga's home without her permission." He stated blankly.

"Where is she, anyhow?" Nick slurred, looking around Arnold into the hall.

"Having a shower." Arnold replied without thinking. His hackles rising instantly as the frown on Nick's face was replaced by a lecherous smirk.

"That's fine, I'll just go ask her where it is." He put a hand on Arnold's chest to push him out of the way, but Arnold was too quick for the drunken slob.

In a flurry of arms, and with a yelp from Nick, Arnold had the asshole pressed face-first against the wall, his arm bent up behind his back. _Thank you random martial arts training._

"Stop fucking squirming" he growled into Nicks ear, highly aware of how disgusting it was being so close to the guy. "You are not coming in. I doubt you left anything here, and if you did, you can wait until Bob is back. If you come back, if you try to see Helga, talk to her, contact her at all, I will call Cindy and tell her exactly what your relationship is with Ophelia Holdings… I take it she doesn't know that you are financed up to your eyeballs?"

There was a moment's silence, then Nick exploded. "YOU LITTLE SHIT! DON'T YOU FUCKING THREATEN ME!" He screamed as Arnold bent his arm back further.

"Shut up. It's not a threat, I am warning you of the consequence of your actions. You intimidate Helga anymore and I will hurt you." He pulled Nick from the wall and shoved him out the door, sending him sprawling on the ground. "Get the fuck out, and leave Helga the _fuck_ alone."

It took massive concentration to not slam the door. He could hear Nick swearing and ranting in the hallway, but after a while, he seemed to give up and slink off. He stood for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to dissipate some of the adrenaline. Gah, all that anger made him want to hit something, or, if he was going to be honest with himself, do a lot more with Helga than make out in the kitchen. He gritted his teeth against the idea, but despite himself, images of her beneath him flew into his head.

_Fuck. Gotta calm the hell down! _

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Helga leaned out into the hall from where she was sitting on the floor in the shadow of the hall table.

"Hey… what're you doing down there?"

"Watching." She said quietly, a small smile on her lips. "You can see everything, but not be seen from down here…" her nose crinkled. "He stank." She said simply.

Fuck she was beautiful. Staring up at him with those massive blue eyes, her long legs tucked up underneath her, her hair falling out of its ponytail. He stepped towards her, unsure. "I feel gross now." He shuddered theatrically, making her laugh. God, he loved it when she laughed.

"Wanna shower?" she asked, still just sitting on the floor. Whoa, wrong question… more imaginings of a naked Helga came into his head, but this time, she was all wet and soaped up. He swallowed, trying to gain control of his thoughts.

"Uh, yeah, that would be good, actually." _Join me._

She started to get to her feet. Arnold leaned forward and offered her his hand. Smiling, she took it, and he lifted her up. There was a pause when she was on her feet, their hands still joined… she looked up at him shyly, and he pulled her to him again.

"Thank you…" Helga whispered.

He squeezed her, realising, with regret, that they wouldn't be picking up where they left off just yet. "My pleasure." He smiled, and he kissed the top of her head. He let her go.

"I'll, um, get you a towel." Her voice was soft. "Um, did you want me to chuck your clothes in the wash?"

"How… uh, I mean, I can't just wander around in a towel…" Arnold faltered, he couldn't seem to stop his mind instantly turning to the lewd. _Sure, I'll go round in next to nothing… as long as you do too…_

"I have guys pyjama bottoms…" she paused, then laughed, realising how that might sound. "I mean, they aren't from another guy or anything, they're mine… they just happen to be dudes ones…"

So, as he sat on the sofa a half hour later, wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama pants, he felt both stupid, and guilty. Stupid, for declining Helga's offer to find him a T shirt to wear - as he now felt decidedly naked – and guilty for, well, uh… _relieving tension_ in her shower.

Now that he was sitting there, the uncomfortable almost-pain finally gone from his nether-regions… he couldn't believe that he had done it. He'd made sure that… uh… _it _had all gone down the plug, and to wash his hands thoroughly… but he still felt awful, like he had seriously betrayed her somehow.

He changed the channel, restless. An old South Park re-run… that was sufficiently mindless. He slouched down into the cushions and waited for Helga to finish her own shower…

…Eventually she tiptoed back into the room. He swallowed, painfully aware that he was staring. She just got more and more beautiful. How the hell was he going to cope with this? She was wearing a pair of long, soft, clinging pyjama pants with a matching, equally clingy tank top. _Clinging…_ he could see the shape of her nipples beneath the fabric. _Oh holy shit._

She smiled, shyly looking decidedly self-conscious. He opened his arms, and she crawled in next to him, tucking herself into the side of him. She mustn't have washed her hair, as it was only damp again his skin, but it still smelt amazing.

God, he was _reacting_ already, and the thin cotton pants didn't really hide much. He shifted a little. She did too, folding herself closer to him, sliding a foot over his thigh. He cleared his throat "Uh… wanna watch the second Die Hard?"

"Sure." She got up and moved around the room, closing the curtains and putting the DVD on. He watched her, stupidly… those pyjama's were criminal. They _CLUNG _in a way he didn't know possible, but they weren't _quite _see-through. Fuck… he felt just like a horny teenager.

She came back around to the sofa, remote in hand. His throat felt like sandpaper. "Wanna lie down?" he asked, shocking himself with the forwardness of his question. She stared, eyes wide… then nodded.

He stretched out, propped up on the massive pile of pillows, and reached for her. They spooned as the movie started playing, dim light flickering across the room. Her head lay on his arm, and her hand came up to lace their fingers together.

It was torture… as the movie played, she just kept wriggling back into him, making him sure that she had noticed, and could feel, how _excited _he was… His fingers found the gap between the waistband of her pants and the hem of her top. Unable to concentrate on McClane's action-packed adventure, he busied himself instead, with tracing his fingertips across her skin, noting with pleasure how he made her get goosebumps, how she made a little gasp if he touched her lightly enough.

Within a quarter hour, he had her panting. Cautiously, he edged the bottom of her top up, just enough to lay his palm flat against her ribs. She went still, and silent. Nudging his face in under her heavy ponytail, he kissed the back of her neck, and was rewarded with a little whimper.

He took a deep breath, conscious that he was going beyond what she had indicated was her comfort zone. "You're driving me crazy." He whispered into the back of her neck.

Her laugh was bordering on hysterical. "_I'm _driving _you _crazy?" she tugged her fingers from his, and shuffled around so that they were facing. Her eyes were huge, moonstruck…

"Goddamn it, Helga" he growled… before he kissed her.

_Fuuuuuck. _This was dangerous. _This _could easily go too far…

He tried to keep his mind on that possibility, tried to make sure he was in control of himself, but fuck, she felt good. His knee pressed between hers, edging her thighs open slightly, rolling her onto her back. Her fingers dragged up over his ribs, making him quake. Her mouth, oh god, her mouth. He hefted himself on top of her, arching his back, holding his weight on his elbows, making sure he wasn't crushing her…

…one of her hands wrapped around the back of his neck, moved up into his hair, dragged across his scalp, the other grasped at his back, tugging him down onto her. Her legs rode up his, using her feet to push upwards, trying to get as much contact as possible. Oh fuck, that was too much…

…He dropped his weight, pressing himself up against her. She gasped, her fingers tightened in his hair. He broke off the kiss, pulling back far enough to see her face. …

…"Fuck, you're beautiful." He murmured, before he used his thumb to push her head back, exposing her long, white throat. She shuddered as he kissed it, dragging kisses up the length of it, breathing into the hollow at the base, mumbling his lips over her collarbone….

Her leg rode right up over his hip, and pulled him down hard against her. He started moving against her, feeling more and more like the teenager. He grinned to himself as he licked her neck –_we're dry-fucking on the sofa… we should have been doing this years ago- _

Shifting his weight, he ran a hand down the outside of the thigh that was around his waist… he rolled away slightly, taking her with him, lifting her far enough off the sofa to slide his palm over her ass. He felt her thighs tense.

_This is unreal._

Grasping at her hip, he pulled her up to him, grinding himself against her. She arched her back. She was writhing beneath him, her entire body tense and shifting. His hand moved up to her ribs, over her top, his thumb traced the bottom swell of her small breast…

…and she froze… as still as a deer in the headlights.

_Shit._

He instantly slid his hand back down to her waist and nuzzled her neck.

"Sorry." She whispered, so softly he wasn't sure he had heard her properly.

He kissed her, where his mouth was already against her neck, then down on her collarbone, then he pulled back and smiled at her, sliding his hand beneath her and the sofa, he lifted her, pressing their stomachs together, glorying in how soft her skin was against his. "So we aren't there yet, don't worry about it."

She shrugged "It's stupid, I mean… we're… well…" her hand slid from his hair and gesture to where his body was nestled against hers, her hips raised, leg slung over him. "…it's no different… I just…"

He stopped her by pressing his mouth to hers. "You don't have to explain." He whispered, his lips brushing over hers as he spoke. Her breath shuddered. "I mean, you can if you want, but you don't _have _to. We will never, ever do _anything _that you aren't completely comfortable with." He kissed her again. "Okay?"

She nodded, her hips rolling slightly. He groaned at the pressure, ran his hand down, cupped the sharp jut of her hipbone in his palm, rubbed his thumb in the hollow, wishing he could catch the waistband of her pants and tug them down…

He let out a whistle, trying to control himself again. "I wasn't expecting this." He whispered. "It's not like I'll leave if you don't want to… uh… fool around, yet…"

Helga rolled her hips again, and Arnold groaned, pushing forward, which made Helga whimper. "Ohmyfuckinggod…" she gasped, which just turned Arnold on even more. Despite his… release… earlier, he still felt like he could explode at the slightest touch. _Touch me._ He thought, but he tried to push that to the back of his mind. She wasn't ready.

"This is… fuck… God Arnold, I didn't know about this. I…" She gasped as he nudged up against her again, he must be pressing on _just_ the right spot… that thought made him crazy. _GODDAMMIT!_

She touched his stomach… just gently trailed her fingertips down from his ribs to his belly button… but _FUCK _it made his muscles jump. What was it about her, he had never wanted to press into anyone as much as he wanted this…

"I… I haven't had this…" she gasped, wriggling under him.

He grinned "Me neither… I've never… fuck… I've never wanted this so bad." He leaned down and kissed her, moving his hips right back, pressing hard against her, and slid forward, rubbing the entire length of himself through the layers of cotton. She shook. "I can't even imagine what it's going to be like to…" he paused, always unsure of what word to use "…be inside you… you're already unlike anyone I've been with."

"Inside me… oh holy fuck Arnold…" The leg around his waist pulled him in, her hips pressed forward. She laughed a little "At least you have _something _to compare this to… I can't even believe…" she trailed off.

He kissed her again, not quite registering what she had said at first. "What do you mean?" he asked, as it dawned on him.

Her fingers touched his collarbone, she stared at them as they trailed down his chest, and lightly touched his nipple. _FUCK! _He only just managed the impulse to slam himself against her. "You know… I haven't… uh, I'm…" she took a deep breath "…I've never had… done…" the look on her face was pained.

Oh god… he had never ever considered this.

"Are you… uh… are you telling me you're a virgin?"

She nodded, looking suddenly glum "I thought you knew…"


	20. Chapter 20

Helga couldn't meet his eyes. Jesus, was she fucking stupid? Why on earth had she figured that he had known? It's not like Phoebe would have said anything… maybe she just thought she was so inept that it was obvious?

He gently moved off her, shifting so that he was on his side, still close, still leaning on her, but her revelation had completely killed the _amazing _time they had been having. She sighed, really wishing she could just get up and leave.

He put his hand on her stomach, sliding it across so that he was gripping her hip, pulling her in towards him. God it felt good… why did being a virgin have to be an issue? Why couldn't he just keep on rubbing up against her?

"I'm so sorry." He whispered to her, laying his head on her shoulder. "I wouldn't have pressed if I knew."

Helga groaned. "But… fuck Arnold… I… I _wanted _to do that. It's not like you're taking advantage or anything." She sighed again, agitated, pissed off, full of un-satisfied _want._ "Please understand. I haven't had sex yet because I haven't met anyone I like enough to date, let alone screw. I haven't saved it because I think I'm some precious flower or something." She took a breath "I'm not on a purity crusade, I'm not waiting till I'm married or anything… I just don't trust most people to not fuck me over." _Oops. _She hadn't meant to say that.

Silence… She didn't dare look at him…

"I trust you." She said simply. "I don't want… I mean… if we both want to do stuff… why shouldn't we?"

Arnold sighed. "I dunno. It doesn't seem right to just… do it on the sofa." He paused, and Helga snuck a look at him. He smiled. "If… If we do… I would like it to be special. I mean, I would like _our_ first time to be special anyway… if it's your first-first time, I'd want it to be awesome."

They lay in silence for a long moment. His hand started trailing up and down her ribs. Goddamn it, she was turned on. Her hips ached, her panties were wet, her stomach was roiling…

"If you decided that you wanted to just do it now… I would. I mean, in the end it isn't my choice how you lose it… and I want to, badly…" He squeezed her ribs at that. Oh dear… "… but I'd like to give you everything else _before_ we… you know…"

God he was cute. "…had sex?"

He sighed. "Yeah. I'd like to date you, I'd want you to be my girlfriend… you know me, Helga… I don't want to just _screw _because we get carried away. Although it would be pretty easy to get carried away…"

Helga turned her head to the screen, man, they had been fooling around for longer than she thought… McClane was just heading over to check out the church… She jerked her thoughts back to Arnold.

Deep breath. Why was this so hard? "I wouldn't want to do it now either. Not that I wasn't thinking about it…" and she had been, she had seriously considered just telling him to fuck her. "… but, I have no idea what I am doing. I mean… what we did then, that is the furthest I have ever gone with a guy. I'd have… god this is embarrassing!" She buried her face in her hands.

"No! No please Helga, tell me. I want to know!" Arnold nuzzled her neck, rolling her towards him, he entwined his leg around hers. Oh my… she could feel how hard he still was… she was so curious, so wanted to touch him…

"ARGH. Ok… I'd have no clue how to… make it good… uh… for you!" Her eyes were squeezed shut, she bit her lip, hard, feeling like a complete goddamned idiot.

She bristled when he laughed. He rolled her further towards him, and kissed her. "Somehow…" he whispered, his hand running up her spine, "… I don't think that will be a problem." He gently pressed himself against her, showing her how hard he still was. _God… I never thought I would _want _to touch someone. _She opened her eyes, and peeked down, but they were pressed too close together, she couldn't see anything. "It's been better than good so far." She could feel his eyes on her face. "If you moved like that while we were…" barely a whisper, he breathed, "… fucking… you'd blow my mind."

Gently, she moved her thigh, rolled her hip harder against him. "Whoa…" his eyes fluttered shut, his hand moved to her hip, but just gripped her, didn't move her away. "Holy…" he tugged at her slightly, pushing up against her. "Ohhh-kay." He breathed, shaking a little "I've been thinking much, much too hard about… uh.. being with you… I'm pretty close to…" his face was bright red, embarrassed.

That had to be one of the sexiest things she had ever seen. "You mean… you could… finish?" Helga whispered. _Uh-oh… not so good for _not _just randomly shagging on the sofa…_

Arnold nodded, visibly anxious, "Gah, I gotta back off. I don't want to… uh… these are your pyjamas…"

"Can I help?" she asked, her own physical reactions stronger than she ever knew possible. She could feel her pulse, thumping erratically. She rolled her hip against him again and delighted in his reaction. Air hissed through his teeth, his fingers gripped her hip so tightly she figured it would bruise. Again, he swore.

"Fuck… what are you trying to do to me?" he growled, and pushed her onto her back. He climbed between her legs. Sitting above her, his shaking hands hovered over her, before grasping her hips "This is fucking _torture!_" She could see the outline of him, straining against the fabric of the pyjamas… if it weren't for the button in the fly…

She reached for him, her eyes flicking from Arnold's cock, to his face. He groaned, "Oh sweetheart… you can't." His voice was pained, but he made no move to stop her.

He held his breath when her fingers met the material. She traced the outline of him, it was… more firm, than she had imagined, and he was hot. She could feel the heat through the cotton. Her fingers bumped over the ridge at the bottom of his head, and his entire cock jerked. She watched, amazed.

Through the fabric, she grasped him, and he let out a strangled moan. "Oh god… please…" She smiled, wriggled her hips.

"This is… fuck…" The crotch of her panties was completely soaked, she was throbbing... she could totally understand how people got carried away, why people just _couldn't not _fuck.

She moved her hand up and down the length of him. His head dropped, but he kept looking at her face. She was fascinated, he shook, muscles in his chest and arms twitched, she _had her hand around Arnold's_ _prick…_ it was growing harder, too. She was nervous, hideously nervous. She battled between her want, and what he might think of her. Her want won out though…

Cautiously, as she moved her hand over him, she slipped two fingers into the fly of the pants. Her Middle and Ring finger curled around him. _HOLY SHIT! _In the little amount of him that she could feel, the skin was silky, a vein bumped under her fingers as she slid over it. He twitched as her fingers moved over the rim of his head. "Tsssss." He gasped "Sensitive."

"Sorry." She murmured, and moved to pull her hand away.

"No!" His hand came up over hers, squeezing. "I mean… if you want, stop, but… fuck Baby…"

"I don't know what to do." Helga whispered, she could feel her skin turning pink, humiliated.

"Do you want… uh… to finish me?" He was quivering. "You don't have to… I can… or… but if you want…"

She thought for a second… "Yes." She whispered, suddenly so nervous her throat was dry. What if she hurt him? What if she was just useless?

He groaned. Gently tugging her hand from him, he held her close, and rolled them over. She giggled as her leg slipped off the leather. He smiled, but gasped. "C'mere." He breathed, and shifted her hips on top of him. _Whoa. Hold on._

She wriggled, pressing herself against the base of him, she felt her eyelids flutter as she hitched her hips forward slightly. She felt herself twitch.

She put her hands against Arnold's chest. Her skin felt hot. _Oh dear_. He thrust up slightly, and she bit her lip. His eyes were wide as he noted her reaction, his hands came to her hips, holding her gently, and started to guide her back and forth.

At first she felt stupid, observed, up above him like that. She wondered how she must look… but Arnold gazed at her like she was a goddess, he stroked her face, her arms, her thighs, and told her she was beautiful. He told her he had never seen anyone as beautiful, that he had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted her… and after a while, when her embarrassment dissipated, the pleasure and the pressure against her far outweighed any shyness.

She was too hot… the cotton that clung to her skin felt suffocating. She leaned forward, pushing her weight against his chest. His hands came up and tugged the band from her hair, which then fell over her face. Her hips kept rolling, it hurt, but it was amazing. She couldn't think… everything was just colour... patterns, like the ones she got behind her eyelids sometimes, exploded in her periphery.

"Oh god…" Arnold choked. "Do you think you can… are you going to…" his hands were traveling across her, down her thighs, up her ribs. He grasped her ass and thrust upwards, making her squeal.

Helga shook "I don't know… I want to…" She registered that she felt embarrassed, but the emotion was so far removed from the want, that she paid it no attention.

"I want you to." He whispered. "Kiss me." She leaned on him, leaned down, it all pressed harder…

"Fuck… Arnold…" She gasped, and he crushed her mouth to his. His tongue ran between her lips, licking gently… _fuuuuck… _all the while, her hips kept working.

… She started to feel it, that clenching in her upper thighs...

"Arrrnold…" she moaned against his mouth.

"Fuck Baby, please…" He matched the rolling of her hips, pressing himself up against her, bearing upwards every time she pressed down. She flattened herself against him, spread her thighs wider, trying to press closer.

It built, and built… and built… for a horrible second, she was afraid it wouldn't happen, for a second everything stopped… and then she burst.

Her toes curled up, and her thighs clamped tight to Arnold's sides. He tried to press up, but she flinched away. "Still." She gasped, urging him to let her do this part. She pressed against him, her face on his chest, her fingers digging into his shoulders, gasping and swearing, until the shudders subsided.

His arms came up and wrapped around her. He kissed her forehead. She just lay in silence until the room stopped spinning. Smiling shying, she struggled up. She thought she would be too embarrassed to meet Arnold's eyes, but she felt too damn good to care about modesty.

"Wow…" Arnold grinned, his fingers brushing hair from her face, rubbing the tops of her arms, "… that was… fuck… the most intense… wow…"

"Mmmmmmmmm." Helga just smiled, and slid down a little. Leaning back down to him, she kissed him. She felt almost woozy, like she could easily curl up and go to sleep… but she had something to do…

She curled her left hand under his neck, rubbing at his skin. Her right hand trailed across his chest, tentatively touching his nipple, raising goosebumps as it traced his ribs, rolled over his stomach, followed the line of muscle at his hip… the line that disappeared under the waistband of the pyjamas…

The tip of her index finger pulled back the elastic, making room for the rest of her fingers to slide inside. Arnold put a hand on her face. "You sure… you don't have to." He asked, his eyes wide. She just smiled and kissed him.

The backs of her fingers grazed up against his hair. She rolled to the side, lying on him, her thighs over his. Pushing down, she splayed her fingers down his inner thigh, then drew them up, gently stroking his balls on the way… he groaned, pressed his lips to hers.

She rubbed the inside of her wrist against him, making him squirm, until she grasped him fully in her hand. What was he? She had nothing to compare him to. Was he large, small, medium? Hell, she didn't even know how to tell if he was circumcised or not. Tugging upwards, she drew her hand up to the end of him, a thin roll of skin covered him as she moved her hand.

Concentrating, she shifted the skin back and forth. Arnold grasped at her, his cock jerked and grew harder, hotter, in her hand. She watched the muscles of his stomach jump. Laying her head flat on his chest, she peeked down, watched her hand as she used it to elicit Arnold's shaking and swearing and, by the end, pleading.

"Kiss me…" Arnold groaned, his arms grasping at her. "Harder…" he gasped a few moments later… it took her a second to realise what he meant, but when she squeezed him tighter, he groaned, and his cock jumped, swelling dramatically. "Fuck, Baby… oh god… don't…. uh… don't stop…" His thigh shuddered, his stomach tensed, as his dick pulsed in her hand. His eyes were squeezed shut, but his hand found her face, and moved her down to crush his mouth against hers. "Fuu-u-u-uuck." His thigh was juddering as she continued to stroke him. "Gentle… gentle." He urged. She withdrew her hand, all sticky and wet, and smiled.

"Uh… should I go get a towel or something?" She asked, unsure of post-cum etiquette.

He laughed "Yes, please… if you don't mind." He smiled.

He got himself cleaned up, while Helga nipped off and changed her panties. The Pyjama's weren't in a _terrible _state, so Arnold declined Helga's offer to try find something else. She brought him a bottle of water, turned off the TV, and climbed into his arms. Curled up in the enclosed, warm sofa, she was just about to drift off, when Arnold whispered against the back of her neck:

"Is now an appropriate time to tell you that I'm falling for you?"


	21. Chapter 21

Arnold cringed. _Oh god, what the fuck have I done?_

It had just slipped out! He hadn't meant to say anything. He had been so good! He had even managed to keep his mouth shut when she was squirming on top of him before, looking like some classical goddess, making his heart cramp.

She lay still… perfectly still. He couldn't even hear her breathe. He could almost feel her muscles vibrating with tension.

He felt sick. God… why did he have to say it?

"Not appropriate… sorry." He whispered.

Her fingers, woven through his, tightened. She swallowed.

"Sorry." She gasped.

Oh fuck… that hurt.

They lay in silence. His heart was thumping against his ribs. Fuck. _Fuck fuck fuck. _He drew a deep breath, trying to stop himself from thinking. She didn't want it… him… He felt sick.

_Stupid… _

What the hell was he thinking… blurting it out like that? For fucks sake… he mentally berated himself, trying to keep his breathing steady.

They lay together for ages… too still… too tense… His mind went around in circles.

At least he hadn't said "I love you.", even though he'd had to stop himself from saying it about a dozen times while they were fooling about…

… He hadn't wanted to be 'that guy' though, that just blurted important crap out when his dick was doing the thinking. He'd realised ages ago that he was falling, hard. If he was going to be honest with himself, he probably knew that he was pretty much there before he had even kissed her for the first time, at the airport.

So why had he been holding back?

Reflecting, he figured that he never really knew how she felt about him. Sure, she said she liked him enough, and she seemed to enjoy spending untold hours online with him… but she was so unlike any other girl he had ever dated. Lila, for instance, was crawling into his lap, smothering him with kisses, and squealing _"Oh Arnold, I like you ever-so-much!"_ from the first day they had started dating.

Actually, most of the girls he had dated had been like that… although seemingly shy with using 'the L word' in most cases, they had been pretty good at blatantly hinting that they wanted him to say it.

He wasn't like that though… he'd only said it to two girls, Lila, and Jess, the girl that he had dated for 6 months the year previously. Unfortunately, with Jess, he had followed it with "…but I'm not _in _love with you." and they had broken up.

But anyways, Helga wasn't like them. She was reserved, cautious. He hadn't really known how she felt because she was always so wary… but before, when she had told him that she was a virgin, and that she wanted to be with him because she _trusted _him… coming from Helga, that meant everything.

He still should have kept his mouth shut though, apparently. God… he hoped he had just freaked her a little, and not scared her off completely. She was still in his arms, which was good… he hoped…

He breathed her in, decided he had to say something. There was a lump in the base of his throat, he was so nervous. Amazed that her not responding to his declaration could affect him so badly, he felt like he needed to tell her something, but he didn't know what. Should he back off? Act like it wasn't a big deal? Or should he just be honest, tell her that he wanted her and ask her to be his girlfriend?

He rehearsed in his head. _I love you Helga… you absolutely amaze me. You're gorgeous, smart, funny, brave… Sometimes I can't even believe you give me the time of day… you're…_

_**If you like it then you should have put a ring on it! **_

He jumped as Helga's phone went off. Eugene. He couldn't help but smile at the stupid ringtone Eugene had assigned to himself on Helga's mobile… he loved to play up the 'gay best friend', despite not being a particularly camp guy. Arnold sighed as Helga slid out from his arms. He didn't want her to leave.

He watched her as she flipped open her phone and chirped "Yo!" into the mouthpiece. She was perched on the edge of the cushion, her toes curling in the carpet. She grimaced. "Sorry man… really. I know…" there was a pause as she listened to Eugene. "I know… I KNOW!..." she sighed "Bob had a heart attack… I was with him in hospital."

There was a long silence… Arnold could hear the hum of Eugene's voice as he suddenly gushed apologies to Helga… she laughed. "Seriously, don't worry about it… yeah, I know… no, it's fine…" she turned to smile at Arnold. "_You want_ _coffee?" _she mouthed, with that beautiful mouth.

"I'll make it." He whispered, struggling upright and padding out of the room, letting the door close behind him.

When he struggled back into the lounge, trying not to spill the mugs, Helga was sitting at the end of the sofa, facing him, her knees drawn up to her chin, chewing at her bottom lip and fiddling distractedly with her cell phone.

"Thanks." She mumbled as Arnold passed her the mug. He nestled down at the other end of the couch, one leg hanging off onto the floor, gazing at her. Something was wrong.

"Helga… I…"

"Please… don't…" she whispered. "I'm sorry… really… I just… I can't deal with this… please… no talking…" she sighed, a heavy, defeated sound. "There's been too much talking… I just want… to do…" she smiled weakly at him.

He had nothing to say… she didn't want to talk, so what could he do?

"Eugene wants to meet up at Tatum tonight… keen?" she wasn't looking at him, but at the phone in her hands.

"I don't need to come… if you don't want… uh…" he sighed. "Up to you, k?"

There was a long silence. "Stay…" she whispered eventually. "Just… no heaviness?"

"No heaviness." He nodded. Ok… he could understand that. Guilt curled in his stomach… he had no right to push or pressure her, especially with what she had just been through. "Hey…" he smiled, remembering something he had thought about when making the coffee "Have you told Olga about Bob yet?"

Helga gaped, her face turning white. "Oh… shit…" she gasped, and frantically flicked open her phone…

… … … …

"CHEERS! To Olga! For SAVING MY ASS!" Helga waved her beer in the air, a broad grin on her face.

Arnold grabbed her wrist just before she sloshed her drink over her own head. "To Olga!" He took a long gulp of his own drink, and raised his glass to Eugene, who took a demure sip of neat whiskey.

Helga whooped, and threw herself down in one of the over-stuffed chairs. She flung a leg over the arm and threw her head back, laughing. "I can't believe it! I'm actually looking forward to her coming home!" With a chortle, she took a deep breath, put her lips to the glass, and drained the entire thing.

Eugene raised an eyebrow at Arnold, who just shrugged at him helplessly. Helga was trashed. "Uh… I'm hungry. You guys feel like anything?" He needed to get some food into her before she threw up.

"STARVING!" she grinned. "I'll order something." She stood again, unsteady on her feet. Arnold leaped up to help, put his hand on her, but she jerked her elbow from his hand. "I _can _walk by myself, Arnoldo… geeze." She glared at him for a second, before breaking into another grin. "Any requests, boys?"

Arnold gaped. She'd just snapped at him, and he was sent straight back to when they were nine years old. He shook his head. "Uh… um… nah, whatever." He sat back down, dejected.

They watched her as she weaved unsteadily back to the bar, glass in hand.

"Not the best of drunks." Eugene sighed.

Arnold nodded in agreement. "Not tonight… drowning her sorrows, I suppose." He sighed. That hurt… he was there for her, he didn't want her to feel like she had to get shit-faced to be distracted from her troubles.

"Ah well, get some food into her, and hopefully she'll calm down a bit…" They sat silent for a second, before Eugene sighed heavily. "Gotta say though… I'm glad Olga's coming to look after Bob…"

Arnold nodded in agreement. He started to say something, but Eugene motioned for him to be quiet, pointing discretely to Helga as she strode back towards them.

"Food coming!" She wove around the chair, and perched on the arm. "One more round and I'm cut off… so says Sam. She sighed dramatically and slid down onto Arnold's lap, her new drink spilling over the side of her glass and running down her knuckles.

"Dammit." She muttered, and licked the drips off the back of her fingers. For a second, Arnold was transfixed. Her small pink tongue delicately collected the amber liquid from her own skin, her beautiful, puffy lips sucked at one of her own knuckles. He shivered a little, fuck… she looked like a painting or something, with the low amber light casting shadows beneath her thick eyelashes.

His arm crept around her waist, she turned to him, her lips wet. "Sam's bringing your guys next drinks with the food… is that OK?" she smiled, wriggling her bum down into his lap. He nodded stupidly.

That drink led to another, and another, and a few more, and by the time the lights were turned down and a live band had started performing on the small stage, he felt pretty light-headed. A few of Eugene's friends had turned up, and when the silky-voiced woman had started singing, everyone had shifted their chairs to face the musicians.

It felt like he and Helga were alone. They were tucked up together on the armchair, his arm around her shoulders, her foot twisted around his calf. The light was dim, the woman on stage sang in a low, seductive voice, crooning about love and heartache. Warm and sleepy, Arnold hummed along.

Helga, now drinking water, leaned up against his chest. One of her hands was curled up under her chin, the other stroked his stomach. His muscles twitched as her fingers found the hem of his T shirt and skidded over his skin. He tightened his arms around her, buried his face in her hair and sighed.

_I love this. _

Her fingers trailed lightly round his ribs, making him suck a breath in through his teeth. She pulled away from him, searched his face with her eyes, then reached up and pressed her mouth against his.

_Fuck._

"Fuck." Helga whispered against him. Her fingers dragged back down him ribs to his waist. He could feel the goosebumps spreading over his skin, making him gasp.

"Take me home." She breathed, shifting her hips slightly.

_Yes._ Every fibre in his body screamed at him to get her alone. He gulped, nodded dumbly.

She stood, leaned over the Eugene and whispered in his ear… he laughed in return and waved them away. "Call me tomorrow." He grinned, and turned back to the stage.

The air outside was cold, he watched Helga's loose hair whip around her face, golden in the streetlight. Her fingers holding tight onto his, she hailed a cab, and they slid into the back seat.

He barely heard her mutter her address before her face was against his, her skin already chilled from the night air. Her breath was in his lungs, her tongue against his lips. His head was spinning from the alcohol…

…All too soon the taxi pulled up to Helga's building and they had to separate. Frantically, they made their way to the Pataki's apartment. His hands were around her waist, his mouth on the back of her neck, distracting her as she fumbled with her keys… and then finally they were alone.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as he pressed her up against the wall. Groaning against her mouth, he found the hem of her shirt and slid in hands beneath it, grabbing her ribs, pulling her hard against him.

"Room." She gasped and stepped forward, moving him backwards down the dark hallway, her lips still against his, dropping each others jackets on the floor as they tugged them off.

Her room was dim. City night-light melted through the windows, bathing the room in a hazy glow. She pushed him towards the massive white bed, making an impatient noise, pressing her hips up against him.

Her hands fumbled with his belt buckle, while his ran down under her pants, grabbing her ass. She crowed, triumphant, as his buckle fell loose. She slid her fingers into his boxers, raking her nails through his hair.

With a grunt, Arnold lifted her up and hefted her backwards onto the bed. He fell between her legs, shunting her further up the bed, kicking off his shoes. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down into her as she arched her back, pressing them hard against each other. Their tongues met, their hips rolled.

He groaned when she bit his bottom lip. Without thinking, he ran his hand up her shirt, and cupped her breast. She moaned against his mouth, releasing his lip from her teeth and dropping her head back. He felt his dick jump as her nipple hardened beneath his palm.

He struggled up, kneeling, and watched her watch him. Her eyes locked on his, she reached forward and grasped his cock through his pants. Fuck. He tugged the hem of her shirt up, exposing her perfect hard nipples, dark against her white skin in the dim light.

"Oh fuck Baby…" he groaned, pushing her tiny breasts up with his thumbs and forefingers, watching them bounce back when he released them. "You are so fucking perfect."

He swore when her hands found his bare cock. He ran his palms over her breasts, kneading them gently. She had both her hands round his dick, and a smile on her face.

He leaned over to flick on her bedside lamp. "I want to see you." His voice sounded distant, his head swam as he sat back, blinking in the sudden light.

Oh my god.

Her eyes were dark, heavy lidded, her lips parted, cheeks red. Her hair spilled out across the covers, stupidly making him think of Leonard Cohen lyrics "_Her hair upon the pillow, like a sleepy golden storm…." _

Her long, lean ribs were heaving with her deep breaths, her _breasts…_ small, round… Arnold felt his dick twitch… her flat stomach, perforated in the middle by her oval belly button. His eyes roved over her, glorying in how fucking gorgeous she was.

"What's this?" he asked, touching a blue-ish mark at her hip.

"Huh? What?" she asked, taking her hands out of his pants and rolling over slightly, craning her neck to look as she exposed her side. A deep, blotched, blackish purple bruise circled her hip, spread slightly at her back.

He gently ran his fingers over it, noting how he could cover it perfectly with his spread hand. He groaned and sat back. "I did that to you?"

"I bruise easy, Shortman, don't worry about it." Helga wriggled her hips, reached for Arnold's fly again, but he caught her hands.

"We can't do this." He statement was glum.

"Yeah… we can… we were doing pretty well, I thought." Helga grinned, but Arnold just shook his head.

"We're drunk…" he sighed. "I don't… we said we didn't want to just fuck..." He tried to gather his thoughts, realising just how pissed he actually was. "I don't want to go further than we did… today… you know?"

Helga's eyes narrowed. She pulled her hands from his and wrenched her top back down, covering herself. "You already have." She stated sharply.

"I'm sorry." He said, his voice small. He couldn't figure out how to say what he wanted to say. He wanted to reassure her that he wanted her, that he wasn't rejecting her… but the sentences weren't forming properly. He really shouldn't have had that last beer.

She hefted herself up onto her elbows. "Whatever." She sneered. "The virgin throws herself at you, and you use having a few drinks as an excuse to cry off?" She blinked heavily, the slow movement revealing that she, too, was still trashed. "More than a little humiliating." Her statement was bitter.

"_Throw yourself _at me when we're sober, and I will spend every waking moment fucking you for the next week." Arnold challenged, not quite sure if that had come out right.

"Doesn't the golden boy act get tired, Arnold?" god, she could be a real bitch when she wanted to be. Arnold stared at her.

"You want to talk humiliating? I tell you I'm fucking _falling for you_, and you just ignored it!" He regretted it as soon as it came out of his mouth, but it still hurt, remembering it.

"I TOLD you I didn't want to talk about it!" She was sitting up by now, her legs still splayed around where he knelt, but they were glaring at each other.

"And I told you I don't want to fuck you while we're drunk!"

"I'm a grown fucking woman, don't you think I can decide for myself who I want to screw, and when?"

"Am I not allowed the same privilege?"

"So you don't want to do this then?" Her question sounded dangerous, but Arnold just answered without thinking.

"No."

She blinked. Arnold could hear his ears roaring in the sudden silence.

"Then get out."

"Ah fuck Helga… I didn't mean it like that!" Arnold tried to protest, but she just pointed towards the door.

"Just go."

He tried to hold her hand, but she jerked it away. _Shit. Shit shit shit. This is _not_ good. _

"Don't be like that… You _know _it's not that I…"

"_Get. Out." _Her voice was low, but firm. She stared straight into his eyes, her face steely.

He sighed. "Fine." He stood up, did up his fly and belt, picked up his shoes and sat down briefly on the bed to put them on. He wracked his brain for something to say to try and fix this sudden shit-storm. He knew they were both too pissed and irrationally hurt for anything to go well, but he tried.

"I could just stay in on the sofa, if you still want me to…" he petered off.

"No."

He moved to leave, paused before he stepped out into the hallway. She looked strained, her face pale… he didn't want to leave her. "You can call me… if you need… I mean… I'll…" he stopped. She just raised her eyebrows at him, mocking him. He left, picking up his jacket on the way.

He was standing outside the building, trying to figure out what to do, before he had the chance to wonder:

_What the fuck just happened?_


	22. Chapter 22

Before she even opened her eyes, Helga knew she'd be hung-over. She could feel her head pounding and her throat was dry.

She struggled upright before cautiously opening her eyes a crack. Her laptop was open on top of the dishevelled bedclothes, a half empty bag of pretzels next to it, spilling salt and crumbs onto the bed. Sliding her feet out of the covers, she put her feet on the floor, her toes knocking into an empty beer bottle.

She leaned over and surveyed the litter of green glass bottles strewn over the carpet. She counted at least a half dozen … and to top it off, it seems she'd cracked into Bob's weed. Her pipe and a lighter sat accusingly next to some of the empties on her bedside table.

"Awesome… pity party." She growled to herself, before hefting herself up and padding to the bathroom.

She was a mess. Her eyes were swollen, ringed with circles so dark they looked bruised. Her face was kinda puffy, her lips bright red. She crawled into the shower with her toothbrush, and spent half an hour under the water, trying not to freak out about the previous night… or what she could remember of it, at least.

What the fuck was her problem? Arnold was the nicest guy in the world, and she kept throwing it back in his face!

"WHY AM I SUCH A FUCKING TOOL?" She yelled, wincing as her head thumped in retaliation to her loud voice.

She wanted to cry, but it felt like she had done so much of that the night before that all her tears were dried up. She remembered the fight, then raging for a while, then getting on her laptop and checking every three seconds to see if he had come online… she must have eventually passed out.

Gah. She didn't even know what to feel. She was mostly embarrassed… ashamed, if she was going to be honest with herself. _What a fucking bitch. _Arnold had treated her with nothing but respect and sweetness, and she had snarled at him. After all these months of swallowing her violent instincts, she thought she had finally gotten over her childish lashing out.

Apparently not.

One 'rejection' and she had been at his throat. It _wasn't even a real rejection! _If anything, it was an amazing guy wanting to be _closer _to her!

"ARGH!" she thumped her head against the glass. She needed to apologise.

She got out, gingerly dried off, made herself a cup of tea (sugary… a hangover trick) and shuffled back into bed.

She checked her phone, email and Facebook, but he hadn't been in touch. She couldn't blame him. Agonising over the wording for minutes, she tapped out a text:

_I am so sorry… for everything._

Taking a deep breath, she hit the 'send' button, and hoped to hell he hadn't written her off. She grabbed her Kindle from where it lay on the other pillow, and tried to read to take her mind of things, it was only 9.40 am… he was probably still in bed…

9.45

9.50

10.00

At 10.03 her phone buzzed. Anxiety instantly ran through her. What if he was telling her to fuck off?

She steeled herself, closing her eyes and forcing herself to calm down, before she opened her phone.

_Me too :)_

The relief that flooded through her was instant. Without thinking, she hit the 'call' button, and held her breath as her phone tried to connect, her stomach leaping, her fingers toying with the sheet.

The phone didn't ring, but clicked over straight away. At first, she thought she had gone straight to voicemail, but there was a rustling, and a thump, and she heard his voice, muffled, as though he was away from the phone.

He must have picked up by accident and not realised. She was about to hang up, when she heard another voice… a girls…

Her heart lurched, she strained to hear what the girl was saying: "…you doing for the rest of the day?"

She sounded young, sultry… with a sleepy, just-woken-up drawl to her voice. Helga was so shocked she didn't know what to think, she just lay with the phone to her ear.

"I dunno… I wanna head home and get changed and stuff…" there was a murmur of protest from the mystery girl, but Arnold chuckled. "… Don't worry, I'll be back for more. Who could say no to you?"

Helga just caught the girl's giggle before she snapped her phone shut, not wanting to hear any more. She instantly regretted it, wishing she had listened a bit longer. She swallowed, her heart thumping so hard in her chest it hurt.

Arnold… girl…

Her hands were shaking, she felt sick… really sick…

Lurching out of bed, she ran to the bathroom, making it just in time to vomit into the toilet. On her knees, sweaty and shaking, she heaved until her throat and nose were burning. Tears burned her eyes, she couldn't breath properly, she choked, coughing when she tried to inhale and vomit at the same time.

Eventually she lay on the cold tile floor, pressing her hot, clammy cheek against the cream ceramic. She still struggled for breath. It was like her lungs couldn't fill up all the way.

_Who was that girl? _Her voice sounded vaguely familiar… but then, she could just be _going crazy. _Had Arnold really spent the night with someone else? After he claimed to care about her, after he wouldn't _spend the night _with _her_? The thought made her head spin, pain gripped her, physical pain cramped her stomach, made her struggle for breath.

She tried to calm herself, rationalise, but then that giggle would replay in her head and she'd grimace in agony. The logical part of her brain told her to text him, sort it out. Better yet, _sleep, then _get in touch with him. But the emotional part, the part of her that _hurt, _didn't want to know… she just couldn't face how much it would cut, if it turned out he had left her last night, only to fuck someone else.

Sleep seemed like the best option, either way.

"I need to sleep." She whispered to the empty bathroom.

She clawed herself up up, brushed her teeth again, blew her nose, and stole in to Bob's room, to do something that she hadn't done in years.

Miriam's medicine cabinet.

'Untouched' since she had died, the white, mirrored cabinet on the ensuite wall was FULL of various medications, but she was looking for one in particular… she fingered through the masses of bottles and jars, their labels yellowing.

"Ah." She picked out a small box, pulled out the tab at the end, and slid the foil-covered blisters out onto her palm. _Alprazolam…_ Xanax. "Hello old friend." She smiled ruefully. Miriam had buckets of this crap lying around. She kept being prescribed it for chemo and anxiety and the like, but never took it, preferring her 'shakes' to her meds. Helga had helped herself quite a few times, both before and after Miriam's death, but it had been years since the last time she'd felt the need to numb herself.

Taking one of the blister packs, she put the rest back where it belonged, and snuck back out of the room.

She picked up the empties, put her pipe away, cleaned up the pretzels, wiped up crumbs, straightened the bed, and put a full bottle of water by her pillow.

Eventually, she climbed in between her sheets. "I hope this shit doesn't go off." She said to no one, turning the blister over, looking for an expiry date. Not finding one, she pressed her thumb against the plastic bubble, enjoying the _pop _of the foil as the small, diamond shaped pill fell into her palm.

She eyed it up, scrutinising it. "Yeah, yeah, I know…" there was a long silence, the room still, her eyes glued to the Xanax. "I'm a pussy…" she sighed, before throwing back the pill into her mouth, and taking a swig of her water.

She picked her Kindle back up, and tried to pass time till it kicked in… tried to ignore the tears as they slid slowly down her cheeks.


	23. Chapter 23

"You look like shit." Gerald said bluntly as Arnold opened his bedroom door.

"I feel worse." He replied, stalking over to his bed and flopping down onto the messy covers.

Gerald scratched his head… this wasn't good. "So… you finally got in touch with her?" He squished his instinct to avoid the elephant in the room. Playing it straight was always the best way with Arnold.

The blonde nodded. "Apparently it's not a big deal… it just didn't work out… she wasn't _feeling it._" He sighed, put his hands over his face. "She's so full of shit."

"Yeah… she is…" Gerald agreed. "But it's _Helga Pataki. _Remember? That bitch be damaged goods." He caught Arnold's furious glare, put his hands up, feigning innocence. "No, really man… I like her, she's up for a good time, she's hot, she has a filthy mouth… I would happily hang out with her, which is good, cuz I'll have to when Phoebe moves back… but _dating _her?" he shook his head dramatically. "She has all sorts of issues that not even _you _could talk her out of."

Arnold squeezed his eyes shut. Gerald was right. Helga was messed up, but understandably so. It didn't change anything, he still wanted her, as much as she pissed him off. He had spent the last week swinging between a kind of desperate sadness, a _need _to talk to her, and being utterly fucking furious with her for blowing him off so easily. _What the hell had happened?_

Gerald nudged the bed with his foot. "Dude, I know you're heartbroken and shit… but you got a plane to catch at four."

They made their way downstairs, where Arnold said his goodbyes to his grandparents and the boarders, chucked Arnold's bag into the boot, and waved goodbye as they pulled away from the curb.

"Hey, Tims." Arnold smiled despite himself as he turned away from the back window.

Timberly, Gerald's little sister, twisted herself to look at him from the front seat. "Play." She said forcefully, pointing at the guitar that rested next to him on the back seat. "I can't get that minor change… show me."

"Nice to see you too!" Arnold smirked as he picked up the guitar and started to check the tuning. Tims was a good kid. Although he supposed she wasn't really a kid anymore… he still thought of her as one, almost like his own little sister, he had known her so long.

She had been there when Arnold had turned up at Gerald's late on Friday night, pissed and miserable. They had all spent the night playing Rock Band on Gerald's Xbox, and getting insanely wasted.

She had begged Arnold to teach her some guitar that was 'more exciting' than the classical and Spanish that her parents insisted she learned… so He, Gerald and Timberly had spent the majority of the week in Gerald's apartment… getting high and playing music.

If Helga had been with them, it would have been perfect.

He sighed, wishing he could stop himself from thinking about her, and started strumming the chords he had taught Timberly, slowing them right down so she could see his fingering.

She stayed in the car, practising, while Gerald and Arnold went into the terminal. They checked in, wandered a bit, bought a soda and milled about. Arnold thanked no one in particular that his boarding gate was FAR away from where he had kissed Helga for the first time. Just being here, remembering how small and nervous he felt, twisted him up inside.

"Thanks for everything." Arnold tried his best to smile as they leaned against a wall, waiting for his flight to start boarding. "Taking all the time off and stuff… it's been real."

"Don't mention it, Arnold my man." Gerald grinned. "Perks of being your own boss, choosing your hours. The tax stuff is shit though." Gerald's freelance marketing and business consulting was doing really well, he seemed to have a flair for it, especially the marketing side.

_Flight 731, Austin, Texas, is now boarding from gate seven._

"That's me." Arnold hefted his bag up onto his shoulder and turned to give Gerald a hug.

"Have a ball, Shortman." Gerald grinned, slapping Arnold on the back. He watched Arnold scan his boarding pass, turn to wave as he went through the gate…

"… aaaaand, he's gone."


	24. Chapter 24

Dear Helga.

This fucking sucks.

I don't know what the fuck happened and sometimes I fucking hate you for refusing to explain things to me.

Do you have any idea how much you've fucking hurt me? I feel like such a fucking tosser, moping around like some pathetic school kid, pining over you. I wish I could just go 'fuck it' and forget you. I've TRIED to forget you, but you WON'T GET OUT OF MY GODDAMNED HEAD.

I want to grab you and shake your fucking teeth out of your head you make me so angry! Why won't you talk to me? You haven't replied to any of my messages, you haven't been online. You're making me feel like a fucking stalker, but all I want is an explanation!

It's been over a month since I last spoke to you. Nothing. Not a single fucking word from you since I left Hillwood.

I miss you so fucking much.

I miss talking to you every night. I miss texting you throughout the day. I really regret that we missed out on spending that second week together.

I hate myself for missing you. I feel like a fucking chump.

Part of me was hoping that you'd miss me enough to get in touch. But it's been two weeks since I last tried to contact you, and you just don't seem to give a shit.

I'm so fucking confused. I suppose that's why I can't get over this shit. I could handle it if you just didn't like me back, but I KNOW that we were heading somewhere! I KNOW that it wasn't just me!

I suppose I can understand it from your point of view too. You've always been scared of letting people close. I get it, if you freaked out when I said I was falling for you. I get it if you lashed out because you were just too afraid to let me in.

I hoped you'd get over that though. I would never do anything to hurt you. I couldn't guarantee that whatever relationship we had would last forever, but I can tell you I hoped that it would.

This has been the longest fucking month of my life. Steve keeps trying to tempt me out of my doldrums with chicks. But I just don't SEE other girls. I don't react to them anymore. Before you, if some girl came onto me and I declined, it was my head saying no, but my body still wanted to get laid.

Now I just don't feel anything.

I really fucking hate this. I wish it would stop. I know it will eventually, heartbreak and shit doesn't last forever if you keep trying to stay optimistic, but some days it's hard to face getting out of bed.

I spoke to Phoebe. I know you'll hate that. She couldn't tell me anything I didn't already know. She thinks maybe I should go talk to someone. I wouldn't know what to say though.

I mean, we weren't even 'going out'. I had no claim on you, no right to fall for you like I have. I feel so fucking STUPID for getting this upset.

Phoebe also said she's worried about you, that you seemed 'hollow' when she spoke to you. That scares me. I hope everything is OK with you. I suppose Bob and Olga are both living with you now.

I hope Nick stays away from you. I wish I was there to help you. I wish I could just take you out of there and bundle you up in my room, and in my arms.

FUCK I HATE THIS.

This erratic swinging between loving and hating you does my fucking head in. One second I'm seething at how much of a bitch you've been, the next I'm worrying about your safety, the next I'm all dewy eyed thinking about how beautiful you are and how good you feel.

I dream about you. I find myself looking at pictures of you. I've stopped jerking off because you were the only thing I would think about when I tried.

…

Arnold stopped at that revelation. He hadn't consciously realised that he had stopped 'relieving himself' for that reason. He just figured he wasn't 'in the mood'.

Maybe Phoebe was right… this writing a letter (never to be sent, of course) shit _was_ kinda helpful. Allowing him to vent without making a fool of himself.

He hit the 'save' button and shut down his computer. He was tired, a dead, heavy tired that he couldn't seem to shake, like he was recovering from the flu. But he did feel a bit better, getting all of that shit out, emptying his head, admitting things to himself that he couldn't say to anyone else.

He pushed his laptop to the other side of the bed and curled up on his side. He hadn't bothered closing his curtains, and he watched light and shadow play against his window. It was getting cold, a light spray of rain splattered briefly against the glass, but it wouldn't last.

He loved fall. He missed the Fall in Hillwood, with it's blustery rains and sudden summery days. Although the summer past hadn't been that hot, sadly. He missed that too, the heat waves, the humidity. Lying on the roof, doing absolutely nothing.

He finally realised what was wrong with him. He wasn't just heartbroken, he was lonely.

He just wanted to go home.


	25. Chapter 25

Dear Arnold.

Happy Birthday for yesterday.

February 7th, right? Well, I hope you got heaps of cool shit, had an awesome night, and woke up pressed against the ass of some curvy brunette. Birthday treat n all.

Melissa thinks I should write you letters. I'll never send them to you, obviously, but she seems to think that getting this shit out paper will help me sort my feelings out.

Personally, I think it's an erroneous endeavour. I know my feelings. I love you, I hate Bob, I hate Nick, I pity Olga, and I myself am a piece of shit.

Simple really.

But she thinks that I can't begin to deal with what Bob did (or what Nick did, for that matter) until I forgive myself, and understand why I was such a bitch to you.

I already know. I keep telling her that I'm a freak, and I just clam up and push you away whenever you get close enough to hurt me.

Apparently that isn't good enough, but I don't know what more she wants from me.

Anyways, enough about her. You're back in Hillwood. I saw you a while back, on the first snow day. You didn't look too chipper, but it was fucking cold. I hid from you. How pathetic is that? I stood behind a fucking tree. I thought I was going to drop dead, my heart was beating so fast.

I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am.

I keep having these fantasies that I could just turn up on your doorstep, apologise, and you'd forgive me.

I also fantasise that you take me upstairs, undress me, and fuck me…

You did something to me, you know. Now I know what it feels like to have your hands slide down the inside of my arms, to have your fingers curve around my ribs… I actually have a sex drive. Granted, I didn't realise it was there when I was doping myself up, but since I stopped chowing down on Miriam's Xanax, I –want- so bad that I very nearly invited Paul into my bed when he was over at Eugene's one night.

I didn't, I'm still just as much a virgin as I was before (minus what Nick did) but I think about it, with you, a lot.

Weird really. Logically, after all the shit I've been through, you'd think I'd go the opposite way, no?

I moved into this place last weekend, and I wanted to call you, ask you over. How fucked up would that have been? I wonder if you would have, or if your healthy sense of decency wouldn't allow you to bed the screwed up chick.

I still wince whenever I bend, anyways, so rough-n-tumble isn't in my immediate itinerary.

I'm sure someone has told you about what's happened to me. It's been a very weird month-and-a-bit. You would still have been at Uni when it happened. Dave and Eugene have been amazing, especially with letting me sleep at their places.

I had to get out, though. Dave's place is tiny, and Eugene has a new boyfriend, so I felt like I was intruding. I love my new apartment, although I'm too scared to sleep properly at night. I end up crashing on the sofa. I think I'll take Dave up on his offer to drive me out to the shelter and look at dogs.

The big boss has a Labrador or something, one of those all-American type things. He was pretty keen on the idea of another dog at the office when we spoke (a nice big heart to heart with an overweight moustached man in his 50's… it was awkward). I don't know if I'll take them up on the offer, I already get so much pity at that place that it makes me sick. I can't wait till everyone forgets about it and things can just go back to normal.

It would be nice to feel safer when I walk though.

Gah, I just re-read this thing, and I sound like such a fucking whinger. I'm not allowed to delete anything though, according to Melissa's rules.

Fucking shrinks… who'd have 'em?

I've gotten off track, anyways. This is supposed to be about you, or something. I don't really know what to say. I know you'll never read this, but it's still kinda embarrassing.

You remember when everyone got smashed at Curly's? I was the one that got you home and into bed. I know you don't remember that. It was pretty hilarious actually, in a vomit-y sort of way.

Ummmmm, what else?

I sat on your stoop for over an hour the night before you went away to Austin. I couldn't get up the guts to knock on the door though.

That weekend we went away with Phoebe and Gerald. I packed condoms… wishful thinking. Phoebe ended up using them anyways.

I stopped Harold from drawing on your face in permanent marker when you fell asleep at one of Gerald's parties.

Speaking of sleeping. That weekend we went away, I was faking when I 'fell asleep' on you in the backseat. I almost died when you put your arm around me.

Argh. Now I'm crying. I hate this shit. I don't think I cried since just after graduation… and then you come along and turn me into a bag of fucking mush.

This sucks.

…

Helga grimaced and shoved her chair back from the laptop, wiping roughly at her eyes with the backs of her hands as she staked away from the screen with all it's accusing, taunting words.

She threw herself down on her sofa, still bundled with blankets and pillows, and glared accusingly at the computer screen from across the room.

Her stomach rumbled, it must have been three or four in the afternoon, and she hadn't eaten yet. She had no food in the apartment, and really couldn't be bothered getting up and dressed. Eugene and Dom were meeting her for dinner in a couple of hours, she could hold out till then.

A cup of tea would be nice, though...

She hefted herself off the sofa again, restless, and put the kettle on. Plopping herself back down in front of the laptop, she fidgeted with the keys, read and re-read her unsendable letter. Her fingers almost itching.

There was so much she wanted to tell him.

…

Melissa wants me to DO something. Well, to be fair, I want to do something, but I'm too chickenshit to do it on my own. Melissa's forcing me to get my ass into gear.

Fair enough I suppose.

I let slip to her that I felt like my life had gone on hold when everyone else went off to college and whatnot, while I stayed in Hillwood. I told her that I kinda feel like I'm waiting for something to happen to me, that I'm in stasis or something.

Now I have to do something about doing something. It's hideously embarrassing.

What do I enjoy doing? What, if I am going to be honest with myself, would be my _dream?_ I like singing, and I _want _to write.

I'm far too much of a puss to sing in public though, so writing it is. At least that way I can use a pseudonym, so if I suck, no one knows.

I've gotta look back through all my poetry books, but it's hard. Not only are the vast majority of them cringe-worthy, but it's just twisting the knife, bringing back more memories.

So I'm writing this instead of ripping off that Band-Aid.

Do you think there's hope for us? Most of the time I think I've ruined it, as I inexorably ruin most things, but every now and then, I figure that if I can sort my shit out, you might give me another chance.

I need to see you, to find that out, and I'm too scared to do that. Too scared I'll look in your eyes and know that it's over for good.

I know I'll know, when I see you again. I know I'll be able to tell, and that scares the fuck out of me. What if I bump into you in one of those movie-esque ways, and your eyes are full of revulsion or apathy, instead of the diffident longing that I wanted for so long, and then ruined when I got?

I know it's selfish of me, I'm sorry.


	26. Chapter 26

"It'll suck…" Helga didn't look at the person she was addressing, the handsome brunette man lounging in an overstuffed armchair opposite her.

"Probably." The man replied, his deep voice drawling over the vowels. "But you'll break his heart if you don't come."

Helga sighed, staring out the window. Rivulets streamed down the glass as rain hit the window, catching and distorting the streetlight. The deep rumble of thunder shuddered through the night sky, lightening lanced white over the dimly lit room.

She closed her eyes, her heart lying heavy in her chest. "Of course I'll come."

The man smiled "I knew you would."

… … … … … … … … … …

"Arnold." She whispered to herself as she walked home, striding down empty streets, her collar pulled up, ineffectual against the warm, thudding rain. She looked down at the dog that followed close at her heels.

"What am I going to do, huh Dot?"

At her name, the dog looked up, it's square, white head cocked to the side.

Helga sighed, hunched her shoulders up, and trudged down the pavement, rain sloshing up over her boots, streetlamps shining in the water, slick on the street. Warm yellow light pooling on the ground from windows, behind which people cozied up in cafes and restaurants, hiding from the spring thunderstorm.

"I'm going to see Arnold." She breathed, at once exhilarated and terrified. In just over a month, Dom –Eugene's new boyfriend- would be hosting a party for Eugene's twenty-third birthday. Everyone would be there… _everyone._ Helga stumbled a little, her leg bumping against the dog's broad chest. "Sorry girl." She mumbled distractedly.

She was going to see Arnold. Her mind raced. She needed to apologise to him, that much she knew, but would she get the chance? Would he want to hear it? How much should she tell him?

She took a deep breath, tried to calm herself down. Rain seeped through her hair, ran down the back of her neck. She balled her hands into fists, shoved them deeper into her pockets as she tried to loosen her shoulders.

She loved walking in the rain, she loved having the streets to herself, loved the smell of the freshly washed city, the sound of water hitting the ground, gurgling into drains, dripping into puddles.

Lightning shattered the darkness as thunder cracked overhead, a massive boom that rippled through the sky. She looked down at the dog, smiling when the white Staffi cross trotted on, unperturbed by the roiling heavens.

She snuggled back down into her coat, lengthening her stride, listening to the chorus of raindrops as they spattered around her.

Humming quietly to herself, surprisingly content, Helga climbed the three small steps on a narrow stoop. She fumbled for her keys, mentally noting to tell the landlord that the security light needed a new bulb. She clicked open the lock and pushed the heavy door open. Her fingers groped for the light, pushing in the timed switched. She bent over to unclip the leash from the dog's collar, and clumped heavily up the stairs.

Her apartment was empty, but she found herself strangely happy to come back to it. She had left a dim lamp on next to the bed, and the heater hissing softly in the corner. The place smelt faintly of wood oil and incense, she breathed deeply, revelling in the homely scent of tea and dust. She hung her jacket on the back of the door, and after quickly reassuring herself that she had tightly closed the blinds before leaving, she stripped down, hanging her wet clothes over the side of a wicker laundry basket.

She roughly towelled off her hair and put on her pyjama's. After making doubly sure that the security lock on the large window was latched tight, she opened the blinds next to her bed and climbed in under the covers. The dog wriggled excitedly in with her, pressing her warm, damp body close. Helga sighed, tugging the dog's ears, staring out into the rain.

She was going to see Arnold… She shuffled further under the blankets, tugging the sheets up over her shoulder, tucking her knees up to her chest.

She kept gazing into the rain, her breath even, her lip caught between her teeth.

The dim green light from the digital clock at the other side of the bed was reflected in the glass of the window. She squinted, 12.06am… March 26th.

"Hey." Helga whispered, patting Dot on the head. "Happy Birthday to me…"


	27. Chapter 27

"Another drink, Arnold?"

Arnold started, jerked from his thoughts. "Uh, no… no thanks Dom." He held up his half-full glass "I'm OK."

Dom nodded, an eyebrow raised. "Are you alright? I know that you must be nervous…" he trailed off.

Arnold swallowed. "Yeah… yeah I'm OK. Thanks." He paused, and Dom put a hand on his shoulder, his face concerned.

"Thank you, Arnold, for being here. I know it means a lot to Eugene."

Arnold smiled at that. They both looked over the crowded room to where Eugene was chatting to an extremely trendy, waifish girl, and Paul, his photography assistant. He looked _happy_. "Thanks for inviting me. Really. I know how close you guys are to Helga." He could hear the hesitation in his voice as he said her name. Gah, almost nine months and he still felt awkward about the whole situation.

Dom shrugged. "She's late, as usual," he smiled "but she shouldn't be too far away. Are you _sure_ you don't want another drink?"

Arnold opened his mouth to decline, when there was a loud rapping at the apartment door. "Lemme in!" a muffled voice called from the other side.

Arnold's heart leaped into his throat. She was here. That was her voice. His chest suddenly felt tight, the back of his neck seemed to stiffen up. He concentrated on loosening his grip, suddenly afraid he would break his glass in his fist as his fingers tightened around it.

"Good luck." Dom patted his shoulder and stepped past to meet Helga at the door, Eugene following just behind.

_Oh god. There she is. _He tugged self-consciously at his suit jacket with his free hand. Across the room, Gerald raised an eyebrow at him, but Arnold missed it, completely oblivious to anything but the butterflies churning in his stomach, and the woman making her way into the apartment.

He stood in the entrance to the kitchen, half-obscured by a massive pot plant as Helga struggled under the weight of a large, beautifully wrapped parcel.

He leaned against the wall, staring. She was actually here. It was surreal. Her dark blonde hair was twisted into some kind of low bun behind her right ear. She wore a dark purple mini-dress, and high heeled black ankle boots. _Heels? _She looked like something out of a French movie, complete with delicate gold earrings.

He had been trying to prepare himself for this for weeks, trying to desensitise himself… but despite himself, he felt his heart jump. She was beautiful. She had lost weight, he could see how her legs were thinner, how her spine was pronounced where her neck emerged from the dress… but despite that, she still looked gorgeous.

She was close, only a few steps away. There were people standing between them, but he didn't seem to notice them at all.

"JESUS this thing is heavy!" She hefted the box onto the side table and stepped back. She hugged Eugene, kissed him on the cheek, showing Arnold her profile. His stomach flipped, scared for a second she would catch sight of him, and disappointed when she didn't, but turned back to Eugene, laughingly demanding that he open his gift straight away.

Eugene exclaimed happily when he pulled a bottle of wine from the box, briefly explaining to Paul and the others the story behind the gift. Helga laughed, blushing. She pulled a bottle from the box and spun around "Is there room in the fridge?" she asked before stepping forward.

Arnold's stomach cramped. The room seemed to slow, to swim as he watched her push past the people in front of him. She had a smile on her face, her head still turned to where Dom was saying something to her.

She was right there, he could reach out and touch her. She turned her head just in time to avoid stepping right into him, her eyes flicked up to his, flicked away. She went to step around him when her gaze fixed on his face again, her smile faltering, her feet shuffling to a stop.

He forced a smile. "Hey, Helga." His voice came out as a croak. He coughed, cleared his throat, tried to smile again.

"H-hey… Hey Arnold." She stuttered, her gaze now somewhere around his throat.

Over Helga's shoulder, he saw Eugene grimace and hurry over. "Let me take your coat, Helga," He chirped "and I'll get you a drink. Grapefruit juice?" He took Helga's jacket from her arm, and passed it to Dom, who gave Arnold a _sorry _glance. Arnold just shrugged. At least she had acknowledged him.

"Uh… um yeah, thanks Eugene." Helga's voice sounded strained. Arnold stood motionless, completely unsure what to do, when her voice reached his ears. "What about you, Arnold, you want a drink?"

He looked up. She was _so close. _After all this time, she was here, he could lean to his left and their shoulders would be touching. She was looking into his face, her eyes round, looking more massive than ever above her pronounced cheekbones.

"I'm OK. Thanks." He held up his glass, the ice clinking against the side.

"OK." She smiled weakly and moved off to where Eugene was searching through the fridge.

_OK… I can do this. _Arnold's heart surged. He _could _do it. It sucked, but he could get through the evening. He mentally shook himself, and stalked through the room to where Gerald was talking with Rhonda and some people he didn't know.

He fought the urge to turn back to Helga, to be close to her, to engage her. He took a deep swallow of his drink and forced a smile as Rhonda gripped his arm, introducing her to the strangers she was talking to.

_I can do this._

…

"I _can't do it!" _Arnold watched Helga as she sat laughing on the sofa, a cushion in her lap, twisting a napkin in her fingers. "Honestly, I _can't_!"

He sat in a dining chair, his legs sprawled out into the rough circle of party stragglers who lolled on the floor, across chairs and cushions, enjoying the last of the night, the quiet conversation and dozy drunken companionship.

"I don't understand." Dom squinted up from where he sat on the floor, his back against Eugene's legs. "Are you afraid of the water?"

"No! Nothing like that!" she looked around at the few people there who were from the original 'gang', "You never caught on? You honestly thought I always just bombed into the pool because I was _naughty_?"

"Well I'll be." She sighed, when every former PS118 student there nodded vigorously. She sat up a little straighter. "Nope. Can't dive." She chewed at her lip. "Can't bungee jump. Can't do those stupid _teambuilding _things Mr Simmons would try make us do… where you fall, and let everyone catch you. It's like a reflex, my body won't let me fall." She shrugged "Just can't do it."

"I can't smell ants." Dom stated, to no one in particular. Above him, Eugene laughed.

"_Smell _ants?"

"Yes. Smell ants." Dom was indignant. "It's a genetic thing, like rolling your tongue… some people can, some can't…"

Arnold watched as Helga relaxed back into the sofa, obviously glad to get the conversation away from her aquatic deficiencies. He'd been watching Helga all night, as much as he tried not to. He'd keep finding his eyes on her, wondering what she was thinking, trying not to analyse her interactions with others.

Paul, Eugene's intimidatingly masculine assistant obviously had some feelings for her, sitting close, touching her... the thought put Arnold on edge. Stupidly, even after all this time, he was jealous. _Especially _when conversation had turned to Helga's photo shoot, and the revelation that she had done some nude shots…

Arnold shook himself. He tried to keep his thoughts away from any of those things… anything that would make him overly jealous, or… yeah…

At least Stinky wasn't there… he tried to look on the bright side. He wasn't sure he could have coped with watching both of them vie for Helga's attention.

Helga, though, didn't seem interested. She was polite, but didn't seem to flirt with anyone, as far as he could tell. Which made him feel a little better.

_GAH! Suck it up! You should be over it by now! _Arnold mentally berated himself. _It's been a good night. _And it had been. It was –he glanced up at the clock on the wall- _shit, _almost 3am, and the party had been success.

Dom was obviously pleased with himself. As the new boyfriend, he'd been _extremely _anxious about throwing the perfect party for Eugene's birthday, and he'd managed to pull it off. He'd even met Mr and Mrs Horowitz for the first time, which had been amusing. Eugene's parents were so eager to show Eugene that they supported him, that they had kind of gone over the top, and almost killed Dom with affection.

It was nice, how loved Eugene was. Despite all the bullying he was subjected to as a kid, he hadn't gotten it _that _bad when he had come out of the closet. Harold had reacted badly, and Sid… but it had been more out of confusion and not understanding than anything, and had passed pretty quickly.

The worst person –Arnold cringed- had been Lila. He had tried to tell her that offering to take Eugene to the counsellor, so he could try 'fix' being gay was fucking sick… but she was adamant. She meant well, in her own cock-eyed way… but she really was embarrassingly ignorant, and obstinate in the belief that Eugene could 'get over it if he _tried'._

Through half closed eyes, he watched Helga's face soften as she averted her eyes. He glanced to where she had been looking, and found Eugene and Dom sharing a tender, drunken kiss.

He looked away again, to find Helga's eyes on him. _Oh god. _Every time that had happened during the evening, it had turned his stomach to jelly. He had managed it, they had even had some perfectly normal conversations… but it was searing him on the inside, clouding up his head. He couldn't wait to get home, away from all these people. In fact, the only reason he hadn't left hours ago was because he wanted to stay close to her.

He knew it was pathetic.

As she looked into his eyes, Helga smiled, and - as though reading his thoughts - she stood.

"Alright, lovebirds. It's my pumpkin time." She raised her glass to Eugene and Dom.

"Are you alright to get home?" Dom asked softly. "Would you like me to call you a taxi?"

"I'll walk." Helga raised a foot, showing off one of the high-heeled boots. "I'm getting pretty good in these things."

There were frowns. "Helga, it's three in the morning, just let…"

"I'll walk you." Arnold surprised himself, and others, apparently, judging from the open mouthed stares he got. _Everyone _had heard some gossipy version of what had happened between him and Helga. He stood up, forced himself to meet Helga's astonished gaze, and smiled. "I should probably get going too."

Silence. Everyone waited for Helga's response.

"Uh… yeah, sure." She turned to Eugene. "Arnold a suitable enough bodyguard?" she asked, grinning.

Arnold's head was spinning. Nerves shook him as they collected their jackets and headed out the door together, trying to ignore the incredulous stares and shocked whispers that followed them.

They were silent in the elevator. Arnold kicked himself. The _last _thing she probably wanted was to be stuck with him alone, and he had basically manipulated her into accepting, by offering in front of everyone like that. He felt awful, and looked up at her to apologise… but she was smiling… grinning even.

"So, Arnoldo." She cocked her head to the side, her eyes twinkling. "How much _scandalous gossip _do you think is flying around up there right now?" her grin spread wider, showing her small white teeth.

He gaped for a second, then returned her smile. "I couldn't even imagine… You're probably pregnant with my lovechild, if I know Rhonda."

Helga laughed, a short, sudden sound that echoed as she stepped out into the foyer. "Oh god, you can just hear her: _of _course _she's pregnant. Didn't you notice that she didn't touch a drop of alcohol all night? If that's not proof, then I don't know what is!"_

They snickered as they crossed the tiled floor, and Arnold tutted as he held the door for Helga. "Pity… it doesn't make for quite the same scandal as drinking _during_ pregnancy."

Helga laughed again as they came out onto the footpath, but it sounded fake. Arnold had said something wrong. He sighed inwardly, he would mess this up, he knew it.

_Mess what up? What are you trying to achieve here? _He scolded himself, reining himself in. Nothing was going to happen, he had to suck it up. He imagined Gerald sitting on his shoulder, like a tiny, stylish conscience. "_Play it cool, Arnold my man… don't be getting yourself all het up over some skirt."_

"What way's your new place?" he asked, looking both left and right down the street, as though there would be some kind of sign on the pavement, a neon light with an arrow showing him the way or something.

She nodded right, and they fell in step beside each other. "I'm surprised you haven't been told my address, alarm codes and social security number, the way some of the those people carry on."

Her voice was light, but he caught a trace of bitterness. He wondered what people had been saying to her. They stepped over the curb and crossed the street. He barely registered where they were heading, just followed Helga's lead.

He shrugged. "Everyone is very careful to not mention you to me." He waited, but she said nothing, just kept her eyes on the pavement. "I've…" he swallowed "I've wanted to ask after you, but no one tells me much. Just that you moved out of Bob's, and that you're modelling now."

She laughed at that. "I'm _hardly _modelling." She pulled a face. "A handful of jobs does not make me a _model._ I hate it, to be honest."

"So why do you do it?"

"Money." She said. There was a pause. "Everything I make from modelling goes to charity." She rushed in a low voice, like she was ashamed.

_That _threw him. He stumbled over various questions in his head, but couldn't pick one before Helga yawned and swore softly to herself.

"Dammit, Dot's going to hate me. I didn't mean to stay out this late!"

"Is Dot your room mate?" Arnold asked, wanting to know more about her life, but too nervous to ask any _real _questions. _Why did you move out of Bob's?_

"Uh, kind of." She smiled, that soft look back in her eyes. "You wanna meet her?" she asked gently, looking up at him from beneath those dark lashes. _Fuck. _He had missed that.

"Is… isn't that… uh… like…" he stammered like an idiot, cursing himself on the inside. "I mean… now? It's late… you want me to…" he shut his mouth, furious with himself.

Helga giggled, obviously amused. "It's up to you, Arnold." She shrugged. "I owe you some sort of explanation… if you want one, that is." Her eyes were back on the concrete before her. "I… I'm sorry we haven't spoken sooner." He watched her as she swallowed, hard. He was amazed. He knew Helga, he _knew _that this kind of frank, vulnerable declaration was not in her nature.

They walked on for a minute, before stopping at a crossing. Arnold pressed the button, and watched Helga as she shifted uncomfortably, her arms crossed, her eyes looking anywhere but at him.

"Are you sure it's not too late?" he asked. "Uh… I mean… it's, what, three?" he blathered, "I don't want to keep you up if you're tired."

"Actually, I'm pretty wired." Her small, rueful smile twisted his heart. "As I said… it's up to you. I am willing to talk, either now, or later, whenever you want." She shrugged, looked away.

"I'd…" he sighed, so nervous that he'd say the wrong thing that his head was starting to hurt. "Yeah, I want to… tonight."


	28. Chapter 28

Helga pushed the door to her apartment open, nerves playing havoc with her stomach.

_He's here… he's at my home, and now I have to explain everything to him... Jesus Christ he's gorgeous._

She slid her hand into the room, flicked on the light, smiling at the sound of Dot's claws scrabbling excitedly on the wooden floor. She pushed the door open, bent over to pet Dot between the ears, and turned back to where Arnold was leaning curiously over them, his long fingers pushing at that ever errant lock of hair.

"A dog?" He asked, smiling down at her.

She felt herself blush, and stood up, stepping into the room to let Arnold in. Dot bristled, 'wuffed' softly.

"She's timid, and not that great with men." Helga explained, "Don't frighten her."

Her heart cramped as Arnold crouched down, leaning back on his heels. He held out the back of his hand, low, the fingers relaxed, and crooned to the stocky white dog. Her breath stuck in her throat as he murmured in his low voice, assuring Dot that it was OK, he wouldn't hurt her.

She pressed a hand to her chest, her heart suddenly aching. She had been doing so well all night, keeping her composure perfectly… but this hurt.

Dot shuffled forward, her wary black eyes staring unblinkingly into Arnold's languid green. Breath huffed in and out of her broad black nose. She slowly snuffed her snout under Arnold's palm, her shoulder's lowering and her tail wagging tentatively. Arnold smiled and slid his hand up her face, patting her on the head, scratching behind her ears. He grinned, turned his head to smile at Helga. "She's beautiful."

Helga could have melted. "I got her from the shelter. She'd been locked up under a house for most of her life." She turned away, telling Arnold Dot's story as she flicked on some lamps and filled the kettle. She moved around the apartment, kicking off her shoes, straightening things up, turning out the main light and filling Dot's water bowl.

She leaned against the bench, chewing at a fingernail as she watched Arnold notice the two photos above the sofa. "You can thank Eugene for those." She sighed as Arnold turned to her, his eyes wide.

"Whoa." He breathed, his eyes turning back to the massive, luridly coloured pictures.

The first was on her face, just her features, her gaze staring straight into the lens. Her eyes were ringed in blues and greens, and her lashes heavily mascaraed. Her lips were lacquered a dusky pink, so shiny it looked like latex.

The second was one of the 'nudes'. Although Helga had argued that she wasn't naked if she was wearing shoes… turquoise green stilettos, which pushed up her buttocks as she knelt back on her feet. Her arms were held loosely at her sides, her fingertips just brushing the white floor. Her head was turned, silhouetting her profile.

"Whoa…" Arnold said again, shaking his head like he was trying to get water out of his ear.

She smiled, blushed, cast her eyes down as the kettle finished boiling and she pulled two mugs down from their hooks beneath the wall-mounted cupboard.

Arnold cleared his throat, she steeled herself…

"Helga…" he started, his voice nervous. "… why now." He paused, fidgeted, "I'm… It's an honest question. I tried so hard to get in touch with you. What happened?"

She sighed, tried to smile. Now that he was here, she really didn't want to do what she was going to do… she just wanted to crawl up to him and… be close.

"I'm seeing someone now." She blurted, pulling a wooden tray from a cupboard and putting the mugs on it.

Arnold's face fell. "Oh." His eyes skittered over the room.

Oh… he thought… Helga laughed. "Not like that! I mean… I'm… I'm talking to a shrink." She poured the boiled water into the waiting teapot and placed it on the tray, turning for a second to pull a small carton of milk from the tiny fridge.

She nodded towards the sofa, motioning for Arnold to follow her. She set the tray on the coffee table and moved to sit on the leather couch. Arnold hovered above her, his face anxious, his fingers tugging back on that one lock of blonde hair.

She patted the seat, indicating that he should sit down. He sat, perched uncomfortably on the edge of the cushion. She could do this. She had been mentally preparing and rehearsing this for weeks…

She sighed. "Can I ask you something?"

He nodded. "Anything."

"Where did you stay after you left my house… last time…" she blushed, averted her eyes.

"Gerald's." He answered immediately, his brow creasing.

"Was there anyone else there?" She asked softly, before biting her lip.

Arnold watched her face for a second, the look in his eyes unreadable. "Yeah, Timberly." He paused for a second. "Remember her? Brat in pigtails? Gerald's sister."

Helga nodded, smiling weakly. "Yeah. I remember her." She took another deep breath. "I called… that morning… and you must have picked up accidently. I heard you two talking… I assume it was you two… and I thought the worst."

She rushed, stumbling a little over her words. She didn't look at him, just announced her confession into her own lap. He stared at her.

"I didn't… I would _never!..." _Arnold gaped, he leaned towards her, his palms out.

"I know, Arnold…I know." She looked at him, her eyes moist. "I'm so sorry. I suppose I always knew… but… I dunno… I didn't want to ask." She let him take her hands, staring at them as they in her lap. "If I was wrong, I would be psycho… if I was right, well… I would be right, and I didn't want to hear that."

She squeezed his fingers. One part down… only the rest to go.

"I… well… fuck. That really sucks." Arnold's face was crestfallen.

"I'm sorry." Helga whispered again. "Really. I… I mean… I've always done that, right? Pushed away people, treated them like shit."

"Yeah… you have." His voice was soft, melancholy. "I did hope you had gotten over that though… I mean… Jesus… we were…" he shrugged, looking lost for words.

"I know." She stated simply. She needed to tell him, before she lost her nerve. She felt that panicky anxiety you get before a blood test, KNOWING the needle was about to pierce your skin. "I… there's more. I mean… what happened… why I'm here..." she nodded to the room "If you want to hear it."

"Please." His voice was soft.

"Okay…" she closed her eyes.

"I never told Olga about Nick." Helga sighed and slumped a little. "She… she let him into the apartment one day while I was asleep, then left to take Bob to an appointment.

"I… I hadn't been sleeping well, and I had taken some Xanax to help…" she looked up as Arnold took a breath, opened him mouth to say something. "Just…" she put her hand out, pleading wordlessly for him to let her speak. He nodded, sat back.

"I woke up with Nick on top of me. His hands were… uh… inside my underwear." She heard Arnolds breath catch, but suddenly felt like she was sitting outside of her own head, watching herself robotically tell Arnold her story.

She explained how, despite being groggy, she had finally managed to put a knee into Nick's balls and push him off, before grabbing her cell phone and locking herself in the bathroom. She recounted how she was dizzy, how she didn't know how long she was curled up on the bathroom floor for, before Nick's frantic smashing against the door startled her awake.

She called 911, huddled against the wall, taking comfort in the operators soothing voice until the cops came, getting Dave to let them in when no one answered their knocking.

Her voice sounded far away, hollow, as she narrated how Bob had come home while the police were still there, how his face had grown red, how his jaw had clenched as the cops had explained what had gone on. How as soon as the door had closed behind the departing policemen, he had turned on her.

He was so furious that he hadn't even said anything before slapping her, open palmed, across the face. He had caught her off guard, expecting him to scream at her before lashing out, and the hard smack sent her reeling. He cornered her in the kitchen, holding her skinny wrists in one hand to prevent her from protecting herself as he slapped at her again and again.

He fumed at her, his voice low, shaking, damning her for being such an ungrateful bitch… just like her _useless fucking mother._ He slapped her to emphasise his ranting.

"_You stupid little _slut_. You think _you're_ too good for _my_ friends? You think some _bony_ piece of _trash_ pussy can treat _my_ friends like that? You're _nothing_, just a frigid little _bitch_… just like _Miriam_. You think _anyone_ else will ever want _you_? No one will _ever_ want you."_

He let her go, pushing her away from him so she stumbled across the kitchen, only just managing to stay on her feet. She was dizzy, she could barely hear, she said nothing. She just stood there, staring at him without seeing him, her head cloudy. He was gasping, his face purple… she hoped he would have another heart attack, so that she could watch him die.

His fist came out far too fast for her to react. It caught her on the side of the mouth, cutting open her lips, sending her flying backwards, sprawled on the floor. Her head bounced against the linoleum, she saw stars.

When they cleared, Bob was over her, he hefted her up by her neck, his large hand easily gripping her throat, and punched her in the face twice more. Blood blurred her vision, filled her mouth with a sickly metallic tang.

He threw her down, her head smacked against the floor again, pain shot through her teeth, her jaw. She gasped, choked. There was silence… just the sounds of their ragged breathing, before Bob lifted a foot and drove his boot into her ribs. She curled into a ball, noise involuntarily escaping her mouth. A kind of rattling screech forced its way between her teeth. She clamped her lips around it, close to passing out, but still determined not to make a sound.

His boot came in again, catching her back, making something crack. She jolted, her body twitching in a massive spasm. She heard his footstep near her ear and curled into herself… sure that this was it, he would put his boot to her head, and that would be that…

But he grabbed her hair, heaved her with both hands down the hallway. Pain screamed across her scalp, tried to make her writhe, but she clamped up, knowing that if she reacted, worse would happen. The hallway carpet burned on her skin, her neck jarred and twisted as Bob roughly dragged her to the door. He opened it, and hefted her out, handfuls of hair ripping from her skin. He pushed his boot against her hip, grinding down, before pushing her away like a bag of garbage.

Bob said nothing, just slammed the door closed. Leaving her injured and alone in her nightshirt.


	29. Chapter 29

Arnold couldn't sleep, the events on the night just kept playing through his head.

He was furious, elated, scared, _tired. _After everything that had happened, he thought he would be out as soon as his head hit the pillow, but instead, he was anxious, confused…

He had sat through her horrible story, rage blurring his vision as she told him how Bob had abused her. He felt a swell of territorial guilt when she told him how Dave had found her, comatose in the elevator, how Dave had visited her daily at the hospital, how she had stayed in Dave's tiny flat, and how Dave found her the apartment she was now living in.

_Arnold _should have been there. _He_ should have been the one that took care of her, _he_ should have kept her safe.

And then she had shown him the photos. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her poor, beaten face.

Her eyes blackened, glassy from the concussion. The left side of her face a bloody, swollen, bruised mess. Her beautiful lips split, a dark gap where two of her teeth were missing. Blood, dried dark and stiff in her hair, her scalp torn. Her slender, pale neck a mass of black and green bruising.

When the pictures turned to her body, showing the marks of abuse on her skinny, naked, broken ribs, Arnold placed the photos on the coffee table, face down, not wanting to see any more.

She had turned those big blue eyes on him and he thought his heart would break.

He had tried to take her in his arms, but she wasn't finished.

He couldn't be with her… she wouldn't date him. They were just going to _be friends._

She was too messed up, too paranoid. She would lash out at him, hurt him, like she already had.

Arnold turned to his side, thumping his pillow. It was almost daylight, birds were chirping.

It wasn't just that, either… she loved him. Not only loved him, but had been _in love _with him since they were three. Two decades… He could barely wrap his head around it.

But she couldn't date him… she begged him to understand. She was too messed up to be with anyone, she would just hurt him.

So that's where they stood. Friends. Friends with no foreseeable future as lovers or partners… His heart sank. He would do it, because that's what he did… but it was going to suck.

He was going to be her _friend._

He wouldn't take any drunken opportunities, or make subtle hints. He would force himself to be light-hearted around her, to refrain from letting his eyes linger on her face. He would act like the only feelings he had for her were platonic. He had to, or he would lose her totally.

He sighed, turned back onto his back, stared at the purple sky.

Leaving her had been hard, he had held her, standing in the doorway, her face pressed against his neck, her breath quietly damp on his neck as tears leaked down her face. He peeled away from her, hardening himself, knowing that he would have to get used to it… and left.

He gave up, sleep wasn't going to come, he was too wired. He swung his feet out from the covers and got out of bed.

He pulled on shorts, socks, a t shirt, a hoodie… he rummaged in his closet for his running shoes, sitting on the end of the bed to put them on. He found his MP3 player and headphones, and snuck quietly down the stairs, missing the bottom one, it always creaked.

The streets were deserted. The air was _freezing. _He started jogging at first, loathe to pull something. His breath puffed up in front of his face, his shoes slapped on the damp concrete.

He tried to empty his head. His feet hit the ground in time to his music, his arms swung slightly at his side. He sped up, lengthened his strides. His feet ate up the pavement, his long legs loping faster and faster. His breath started to labour, sweat dampened his T shirt.

Blocks passed beneath his feet, he unzipped his hoodie, sweat beaded on his face. He ran till it hurt, his lungs heaving, his skin hot, his legs protesting. He pushed harder, forcing himself to keep up his pace, keep the length in his tread. He crossed a road, barely checking for cars.

The sky was growing lighter, shades of purple giving way to orange. He caught snatches of birdsong over his music, felt the dawn breeze on his face. He wasn't really paying attention to where he was, when he skidded to a stop in front of Mighty Pete.

Amazing Pete was still there, really. He chuckled, surprised that over-protective mothers hadn't had the tree-hut pulled down yet.

He crossed the grass, dew soaking his sneakers. He tested the ladder, wary that it might snap on him. He climbed to the top, careful to not slip on the wet rungs, smooth from so many feet over the years, and sat heavily on the wooden floor.

He leaned against the wall, catching his breath. Dawn sun leaked in through the open wall. He closed his eyes, exhausted, and memories flew unbidden into his head.

He remembered Helga… remembered her right here, standing up to her father when Bob was going to knock the tree down… remembered her curled into a corner reading by torchlight when she didn't want to go home. Remembered her sneering at him when he invited her to come over for dinner.

He had just been a kid. He had known she was unhappy, but if he had realised… He shook his head. No wonder she had always been so easy to set off. She didn't want his pity. She didn't want him to invite her over because he _felt sorry _for her. She wanted him to _notice _her.

He remembered stumbling across her in the park one afternoon. They must have been sixteen. It was the end of summer, one of those long, still, humid afternoons. He had just been going for a walk, confused about Lila or something, and had found her sitting cross-legged in an out-of-the-way patch of grass, writing in a notebook.

She had looked… soft… nothing like he had expected. She had just looked up at him, smiled this sad smile, and greeted him. He could almost hear it. "_Oh. Hey Arnold." _He had sat down, and they had just talked, for hours. She was a different person. If he hadn't been so caught up in Lila's bullshit, would he have realised what he had been seeing?

That was when Miriam died. She sat there, chatting away about a million mundane trivialities, and didn't once mention that her mother had passed away the night before. He hadn't found out until Gerald told him that evening, after he had walked Helga home, her shoulders slouching, her steps growing slower the closer they got to her building.

Things had kinda changed after that. They had been forced to hang out together a bit anyway, because of Phoebe and Gerald, but after that afternoon, the venom went out of her bite. She could actually be nice sometimes.

He wondered… what would it have been like if he had realised, _really _realised what Helga was actually like back then? Would they have lasted? Was it a good thing that he didn't _notice _her till they were a bit older? He felt like he had wasted time. If he had just _realised… _He could have taken her in, protected her…

He mentally shook himself. There was no use asking 'what if'. There was nothing he could do about the past. What he could do though, was help her now.

He shifted, the wood uncomfortably hard. He shifted his shoulders, wriggled. He realised he had been angry, frustrated that he had waited so long, had tried to do everything right, but it hadn't turned out how he wanted.

_Selfish_, he thought. He had logically seen Helga's rationale… but his heart hadn't accepted it. The fact that she needed time, that she needed to be free to try and sort through her issues, with no one hanging around in the background, no one making her feel rushed, or guilty… that fact had just swam on the top of his head… but now he got it.

He felt kind of peaceful as he descended the ladder and headed back for home. Instead of feeling like being Helga's friend was some kind of consolation prize, or a punishment for not doing everything exactly right… he felt like it was a real opportunity to help someone he cared about.

He was going to be her _friend._


	30. Chapter 30

_A- Can you come over?_

Helga bit her lip. Worried.

_H- Of course. I'm walking the Dot, so I can be there in 15 if you don't mind having a poochy visitor?_

She checked the time. It was only 8.30am on a wet Saturday morning. Dot had woken her early, and she had stumbled out into the rain to walk her. She fretted for a second over her appearance, but decided not to care. It was more important that she was there for Arnold at the moment, than that she looked good.

Poor Arnold.

The last few months had been hard on him. After having health difficulties for months, his Grandma had passed away in late September. Grandpa Phil had followed just a few weeks later.

They were both ninety five. Arnold knew that they had amazingly long and happy lives. He knew that living without Gertie would have been painful for Phil… but he was still heartbroken, understandably.

The boarders had left. It had only been Mr Huynh and a young couple, the Schultz's anyway. But without them, the boarding house seemed vast and empty. Helga worried about Arnold. A lot.

She knew he had been planning on going through his grandparents things the night before. She hoped he wasn't too depressed. Although, judging from an early morning text message, requesting her presence… things couldn't be great.

He phone buzzed in her hand.

_A- Dot's always welcome._

She couldn't help but smile. Her dog _loved _Arnold.

_H- I'll head over now._

She shoved her phone deep into her coat pocket, and started off towards the Sunset Arms, her brow furrowed as she lost herself in thought.

So much had happened over the past year, she never felt like she was still. Sometimes it was a good thing, exciting: she was writing a novel (at Melissa's insistence) and had started dabbling in poetry again.

Sometimes, however, it was overwhelming. Bob's trial had been horrible. Her and Olga were only now starting to talk things out. Olga had no idea where she stood. She was appalled at what Bob did, but also found the idea of Helga standing up and speaking out against her own father… distasteful.

That didn't bother Helga so much, though. She was… not comfortable, nor resigned… but she acknowledged the fact that her family was a mess, and that she was unable to fix it.

Melissa loved that. In fact, she praised Helga for such a realistic outlook. Just last week, she had sat back, and said, straight up, that she never expected such 'progress' from Helga. Apparently Helga's no-frills approach to life was what helped her 'grow' so much over the past months.

She knew that life wasn't going to be a bed of roses. She knew that it would always be hard, always be work. She knew that there wasn't a prince charming coming to rescue her and hole her up in a castle somewhere.

That said, if he did come along, she would probably just get bored and tell him to shove his crummy castle where the sun don't shine.

Invariably, this train of thought had one destination… Arnold.

Sometimes it was such a big, scary thought, that she couldn't approach it. But now she managed to get close enough to analyse it a little.

She wanted him.

She was still scared. She was definitely stubborn. She had said she needed space and time, and there was a part of her that clung to that, for no good reason. It had been seven months since she had told Arnold that she couldn't be with him… she felt like somehow she would be going back on her word or something if she changed her mind.

That said. Did he still want her?

She knew he had been 'seeing' a girl for a little while. She had bumped into them one day, recognised the girl from a party at Gerald's. Arnold had looked so guilty it had almost made Helga laugh. Almost.

She had ended up at home, bawling her eyes out.

What she hadn't done, however, was get angry or weird or bitchy about it. She decided to be nice. She swallowed all the defensive, catty comments, and acted like she wasn't dying inside.

After all… she couldn't exactly tell him to wait for her.

She steeled herself. It didn't matter. As far as she could gather, the affair with the girl had burnt out pretty quickly. Something about the ex coming back onto the scene or something. He didn't really seem to care about it, so she figured it had just been a 'casual' thing.

What mattered was how he felt about _her. _Helga G. Pataki.

She figured he found her attractive. Back in summer, when they had decided to make old-fashioned lemonade and bask in the sun on Arnold's roof, his jaw had hit the floor when she stripped down to her bikini. He didn't realise that she could see through the big floppy hat she plonked over her face, and his eyes had never left her. He'd even had his T-shirt draped 'subtly' over his lap… like that wasn't obvious….

She had to admit that she had played it up a bit, stretching, trying to get comfy on the towel she had laid down. It had been an ego trip… even if she did feel guilty about it later.

But that was a few months ago… had that changed? Did a physical attraction really matter? Did he still _feel _for her?

Gah. How could she be so selfish? Now wasn't the time to be wondering what she could get out of him. He had basically just been orphaned.

Sure, he was an adult now, but it had all hit pretty fast. One day he had been living in his grandparents' attic. He had a good job and contributed to the bills… but no _real _responsibility. The next, he was having to decide whether to sell the boarding house, or keep it and fix it up.

That had struck her three days after his Grandma had died. She tried to help him as much as she could, and was suddenly aware that they were grown ups. There were people older than them around, but they were the ones planning a _funeral. _

That thought stuck with her. She was an adult. She didn't answer to anyone. It gave her strength, that thought. She was independent. She loved it. She had her own place (that she wasn't tied down to) a job, an embarrassingly large savings account…

She was an adult, who could decide what her wants and desires were, without having to explain or apologise for them… but she wasn't a slave to them. She desired Arnold, but put it out of her mind. They could carry on how they were… things were far too hectic as it was to throw more complications into the mix.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket, standing under an awning for a second to tap out a message.

_H- Almost there. Put the kettle on and keep and eye out. It's POURING out here!_

And it was. Rain tapped against the hood of her coat. Soaked the legs of her jeans, sloshed over the toes of her boots. Dot was saturated, but the dog loved the rain. Crazy thing loved the shower, too.

She stomped up to Arnold's stoop, shaking the excess water from her sleeves. The door opened before she knocked.

Arnold looked like shit.

He had dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a mess. He was just wearing track pants, his chest and feet bare. His skin had the pale, waxy look of someone with a hang over.

Despite looking like he'd been on a three-day bender, he smiled as she stepped into the hallway… a wan smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Hey Helga." He bent down as Dorothy rammed her wet head against his legs. "Hey Dot." He had an old rough towel in his hands, and he roughed it over the dog's fur to dry her off.

"You're wearing gumboots… with dogs on…" he commented, his green eyes turning up to look at her as she wrestled with her coat. There was something strange about the look… something unsettled and frantic.

"Don't you be talkin' sass on my gumboots, Shortman." Helga twisted, gingerly tugging the wet coat sleeve off her arm and hanging it up on the hook. "Got coffee on?" She pried her boots off her feet and smiled at him, nervous. He didn't seem right.

By the time he trudged up to his attic bedroom, Helga in tow, she knew something _bad _must have happened. His moods were staggeringly erratic, leaving Helga dumbfounded in their wake. He seemed to be _trying _to be jovial, but swinging from furiously angry to tear-jerkingly miserable. It was exhausting just watching him…

She sat on his bed as he stalked around the room. He picked up his guitar, sat down on the sofa, strummed a few chords, then threw it down, irritated. He got up, stalked to his computer, moved to turn it on, but seemingly changed his mind.

Dot slunk across the room and curled up in the basket he had set up for her a few visits ago… her ears cocked, her eyes following him as he moved restlessly across the floor.

"Arnold…" her voice caught as he turned to her, his eyes red… "…what's wrong?"

He stopped his pacing and stared for a second. The furrows in his forehead deepened, then his face fell. He moved to her, climbed up on the bed next to her, reached across and pulled a shoebox from his shelves.

He placed the box in her lap, gestured that she should open it, then flung himself backwards, lying across the bed with his forearm over his eyes.

She gazed at him for a second… he looked so fragile… she bit her lip, tears stinging at her eyes.

_Pull yourself together._

She sniffed, and turned her attention to the box. Inside were envelopes and letters, jammed in untidily. She pulled out a wad.

They made no sense:

_Tell our Arnold that we love him…_

_It's for the best, I know…_

_If you could spare a few hundred dollars, to get me on my feet…_

_Don't act like you've done me any favours!..._

_I WILL come see him if I want to! What could you do to stop me?..._

_Stella insists that it is for the best…_

…

Helga could barely take it in. The words swam in front of her eyes as she tried to read them. Her heart knocked at her ribs.

"Arnold… what… I don't understand…" She turned to look at him, her fists full of paper.

"Oh… Arnold…" His chin was quivering, wet streaks showed where his arm was crushing his tears against his cheeks. She tossed the letters back into the box, set it on the floor, and lay down beside him.

His body was stiff, his breath coming in little huffs. She embraced him in a clumsy hug, pressing her face against his shoulder, laying her arm across his naked, skinny chest.

"I… I believed it… I believed them…"

Helga said nothing, just grasped him tighter.

"I… I truly believed that my parents were explorers that died on some massive adventure… I… can't…" He took a shaking breath. "They just dumped me on Grandpa and walked out…"

Helga felt the tears welling up again, but she made no move to wipe them away as they slipped slowly down her cheek.

"The letters just stop… I think… they… they sound like they were junkies or something. Fuck… _Fuck…" _

"What are you going to do?" she whispered. Scared she would say the wrong thing.

"I don't know."

They lay in silence. Minutes passed as Helga held Arnold's rigid body. The rain outside grew heavier, the water running across the skylights throwing strange, moving lights around the room. Bruised clouds crowded the dark sky. Wind howled, leaves and detritus screamed in the gale as thunder and lightening boomed and cracked above them.

More time passed. Dot came snuffling up, concerned. She sat on the floor, her head resting on the bed, her small, black eyes regarding the couple.

Helga's neck was aching, the arm beneath her had pins and needles… but she didn't move, she just held him. Slowly, too slowly to measure, Arnold started to relax. Eventually, he pulled his arms from his eyes and rolled to face her. She shifted, getting circulation back to her arm, and touched his face.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered.

He lay there, seeing her. His swollen eyes searched her face. A minute passed… and another… and another…

"Do you still love me?" he asked finally, his voice nearly drowned out by the crashing rain.

She felt her chest tighten, like she couldn't get enough breath. She pushed the air out of her lungs in a huff, inhaled deeply through her nose…

"Of course I…"

"… No. Not like that, Helga. Are you still _in love _with me?" his gaze was direct, but not challenging, not threatening. Her heart ached.

"… it's probably cruel of me to ask." He whispered. "I'm not going to ask you to _do _anything… I just want… I…"

"…Yes." She said simply, her voice loaded with meaning. She understood. She knew what he needed. She knew how she felt. "I love you."

He smiled. He didn't beam, grin or laugh. He just smiled a small smile of relief and leaned forward to press their foreheads together. They lay still again, time passing as the storm raged on above them. Helga felt his body relax under her arm, heard his breath grow more even… and eventually, shallow.

She pulled back a little, his eyes opened lazily, questioning.

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

"No."

She pulled away from his arms, coaxed him with her hands into turning around, pulled the blanket over him, and watched his eyes close again, his face now smooth.

"I'm glad you're here." He whispered as he snuggled down into his pillow.

She climbed over him to the other side of the bed, watching him as he fell into a deep, childlike sleep.

_Decision time._


	31. Chapter 31

Arnold woke disorientated. He was awake instantly, but didn't feel alert. His head felt heavy, his eyes didn't want to open. It was the kind of feeling he got after sleeping a dreamless, dead sleep.

Helga was next to him.

He could feel it, feel an unfamiliar weight on his mattress, feel a warmth.

He rolled towards her, instinctively noting that the blankets didn't catch, like they would if she were on top of the covers.

His legs brushed against bare skin.

He felt himself collapse inside. This was what he wanted. Not necessarily _bare skin_, but to wake up and have Helga, warm and cosy beside him.

He opened his eyes. Helga was smiling at him over her shoulder.

"Well hello there, sleepy head." She stuck a bus ticket into the book she was reading and put it on his shelf before rolling over to face him. "Feeling better?" Her voice was so soft, full of concern and affection.

He nodded. "I think so. How long was I asleep for?"

"A couple of hours. It's past two."

Despite of everything… or maybe _because _of everything… he wanted to touch her, to be close to her.

She nestled further into the blankets. She gathered her pillow beneath her head, and just lay there, looking at him, her full lips in a soft smile.

The haze of sleep slowly dissipated… he remembered what he had asked her. He studied her face. She didn't look freaked out. She was still here, too… which couldn't be a bad thing.

He shuffled closer to her, his knees bumped against hers. "Thank you… and… sorry…" he whispered.

She shrugged "Nothing to be sorry for." Beneath the covers, her hand snaked out, touched his arm. "Nothing."

Guilt, shame, embarrassment. As he remembered more, he realised how crazy, weak and pathetic he must have looked. He'd never felt 'manly' by any means, but he had cried in front of her. "I…"

"…Hey." She cut him off. "You have had a seriously shit time recently, then you find out about your parents? You have _nothing _to be sorry for. You don't have to explain anything to me, or apologise. I am here to listen to you, or distract you if you don't want to talk… or think…" she paused. "I'm not going to judge you, Arnold… not now."

The thought of his parents made his jaw clench. "I don't want to talk about my… parents…" He tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but didn't quite manage it. He was so hurt, so confused… he tried to just push it out of his head. He couldn't deal with it at the moment.

"You don't have to." Helga stated simply, moving closer. Her knees slid along his, their legs straightened, their skin pressing together. _Distract me. _He thought, wishing he were ballsy enough to make a move on her. Fuck… his head was all over the place. "I was thinking…" she said, breaking his concentration from how soft her thigh felt against his "… if you don't have plans, shall we Thanksgiving together?"

Geeze. Thanksgiving. It was only a few days away. He hadn't even thought about it. "Yeah, that'd be nice." _This is nice. _It was still raining outside, the drops pattering softly against his skylights. The air outside of the blankets was chilly, but beneath them was warm. He shifted, suddenly aware that he needed to pee. He sighed, the last thing he wanted to do was leave, but now that he had noticed it, he really needed to go.

He pushed the blanket back, climbed out of bed. "Bathroom." He said by way of explanation when Helga had raised her eyebrows in a question. He watched her as she slid out from beneath the covers, picked up her jeans from the floor, and tugged them on. Without a trace of embarrassment, she stood to pull them up the last bit and do them up, exposing her ass, and the scant pink panties that covered it.

He felt the twitch in his cock, and hurried away before she noticed.

What was happening? He couldn't help but hope that _something _was going to happen… but why now? He didn't want her to be with him out of pity. He didn't want her to do anything she wasn't totally comfortable with. Was that even what was going on? She was probably just being nice, being there for him, and he was reading too much into it. He studied his reflection as he washed his hands:

He looked like shit. He needed a shower and shave. He was too skinny, his hair was a mop, he needed to get to the gym. He ran a hand over his jaw, the stubble grating at the skin of his palm. _Football Head. _He was still so self-conscious about it. It had been way worse as a kid. Having other children mock him was one thing… but to have adults call him names… that hurt. He sighed, turning away from the mirror. Helga probably didn't want him like that anymore… and who could blame her? Although she had told him, that summer, that she liked his peculiar jawline. _"You've grown into it, Shortman. You look like that actor guy… one of the Wilson brothers… Luke?" _He smiled at the memory.

Argh. He needed a shower, and to eat something. Maybe then he'd stop feeling so erratic. He turned the shower on, kicked off his track pants, grabbed his electric razor and stepped under the water… by the time he made his way down the kitchen, a towel around his waist, Helga was halfway through her cup of tea, the paper spread out in front of her on the bench. _Like she belongs here._

Arnold shook his head to dislodge the thought.

She smiled at him when he walked into the room. "You hungry?"

"Starving."

"Wanna get something?" She stood up straight and started folding up the paper, her eyes on her hands "I thought I could stay… if you want…"

_Oh god yes. Please stay. _The house was too large, too empty now that he was the only person living there. He needed to fix it up, find flatmates to fill it up… but for the meantime… "Yeah. If you aren't busy… I mean… that would be…" he felt his cheeks redden as he stumbled over his words. _Get your act together! _He chided himself.

She nodded, her skin flushed a little. "I have to go home, get Dot food… and clothes and stuff. I fed her a can of Spam, I hope that's ok?"

"We had _spam?" _Arnold grimaced. "Yeah… that's fine. I could drive you… we could get food on the way home?" He should have picked her up this morning, he knew… the Packard was his now, all beautiful and shining, but he had felt way too out of it to drive. He hadn't trusted himself.

"Great! Put some pants on and we'll go."

… … … … … … …

Arnold smiled as Helga laughed at the screen. They were in the front room, on the sofa, in a nest of pillows and blankets they had dragged from cupboards and beds. A stack of dishes was piled up on the coffee table, the dog was curled up in a blanket, on a striped armchair.

Arnold was happy. One leg dangled over the arm of the sofa, his shoulder pressed up against Helga's as she sat cross-legged, eating an ice cream.

"God, she's such an awful woman!" Helga hooted, giggling at the on-screen antics of Troi's mother, Lwaxana.

It was a Saturday evening, and he was curled up with the girl of his dreams, watching Star Trek. It was his every nerd fantasy come true. They were even planning on playing Amnesia once it got late. He smiled to himself. Things were shit, but at the same time, some things were perfect.

"Wanna penny?" Helga asked, leaning forward to drop the ice-cream stick on an empty plate.

"Huh?" Arnold looked up, her smiling blue eyes still had that stomach-in-knots effect on him. He had gotten used to it though, could deal with it without giving himself away.

"Your thoughts."

He smiled. "Just that this is cool…" He gestured to the room "…and that you're queen of the nerds."

She grinned "I take my title very seriously." His heart flipped a little as she moved, snuggling right into him. "But yeah. It is… cool… I mean." He held his breath. She tucked her knees up, leaned her head on his shoulder. It was really uncomfortable.

Slowly, he straightened up, swung his leg around so that both his feet were on the floor, and shuffled over so that she was tucked under his arm. He stared at the screen, tried to pay attention, but it was hard. Was she cuddling him because she felt he needed comfort… or did she want comfort… or were there _other _reasons? Her hand crept around his back.

_She _did_ say she still loves me… _Arnold tried to banish the thought. In seven months he hadn't fucked up. He hadn't once over-stepped the mark, and he wasn't going to do it now. He was nervous, frightened of doing the wrong thing. He could feel his heart thumping hard in his chest.

The mood had suddenly changed. Their easy closeness, stupid banter and light verbal sparring had turned into a tense, silent wait. Or was it just him? Was she feeling this too?

"So, Shortman…" Could he actually hear trepidation in her voice, or was he imagining it? She swallowed. He looked down at her, but her gaze was fixed on the screen… he could see the reflection of the television dancing on her wide eyes.

"Yes, Pataki?" His voice cracked a little, but it was better than he could have hoped for. _Don't fuck it up… keep it light…_

"What are we?"

_So much for keeping it light. _"Whatever you want." He said honestly. It was the only answer he could give.

"Whatever I want…" she repeated in a whisper. Her forehead creased in a little frown. "What do you want?" She still wouldn't look at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, the hand in her lap was clenched into a fist.

He thought about it. He knew what he wanted… but how could he say it? Somehow he thought that completely spilling his guts and asking her to move in would be a little too much. His neck was tense, his hands were starting to go clammy. He was so nervous his eye twitched. "Nothing has changed… for me…" he sighed, leaning back a little. She was quiet… had he said the wrong thing?

Finally, she turned to look at him. She looked nervous… she was biting down hard on her lip, hard enough to leave teeth marks in her skin when she opened her mouth to speak. "Yes?" was all she said. One word… Her hand gripped her his back, her shoulders pulled back a little, her chest pressed up against his ribs as she turned to him. Her face was so close, her lip swollen from her bite, her eyes wide…

He didn't even know what she was asking… but he knew the answer.

"Yes."

She moved closer, stretched towards him, and he bent down to meet her. He could feel her breath on his cheek, the warmth of her skin. Her hand came up to grip his shoulder, holding tight to the fabric of his T shirt. His hand slid forward, gripped her knee. Her eyes darted to his mouth, just before their lips touched, then closed as his mouth covered hers.

He thought nothing… just felt.

Her lips were as soft as he remembered. Warm, sweet from the ice cream. He felt everything. She relaxed, softened, her body gathered easily into his arms as he slid them around her… pulled her close. He heard her, a soft moan pressed against his lips as his hands slid up her ribs. He leaned back, falling against pillows, pulling her with him, breaking their kiss.

She braced her hands on his chest, pushing herself up as he tugged at her hips, nestling himself between her legs and pulling her close to kiss her again. "I missed you." He groaned, nuzzling her neck, reaching up to tease the hair tie from her ponytail. Her hair fell, a heavy blonde curtain around their faces. His hands moved to rove across her body, not thinking about what was proper, just doing what felt right.

"What's with us and sofas?" she asked, stroking his neck, circling his earlobe, raking through his hair with her fingertips. Her cheeks were flushed. Her back arched, her breath fell from her lungs as his hands found the bottom of her shirt and the bare skin beneath.

"Safer than bed." He replied, lightly skimming his fingers over the small of her back, revelling in the goosebumps that broke up beneath his touch.

Her hands moved to his cheeks, holding his face. "We're not drunk." She whispered, her voice shaking, her eyes dark.

"Ohhhhh god. I _feel_ drunk." He felt his stomach lurch. He didn't even know what she meant, couldn't wrap his head around it… but he didn't care. He didn't want to think, he just wanted to _do_. His hands were on the warm skin of her back, dragging across her skin, gripping at her shoulder blades. He pressed his face into her neck. She had taken a shower and her skin smelled of soap. Her voice was so soft he almost didn't hear her whispered question, lost as he was in the scent of her, the _feel_ of her. He paused, replayed what he had heard…

He pulled back from her, his eyes searching her face. Fuck. Her lips were swollen, red, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes were wide, waiting for him to answer…

_Did he love her?_


	32. Chapter 32  The End

Helga waited, staring into his face. Why… _why _did she have to ask him _that? Why _couldn't she just go with it and not need… something…

He stared at her, his eyes searched her face, making her feel naked, small under his gaze. She couldn't read his expression at all. _Shit. _

"You don't need to answer." She whispered, mortified she had asked him in the first place. God… how stupid could she be? Why couldn't she just shut her mouth for once and just let herself do what she _really _wanted to do? Why did she think that just because he asked her earlier, it meant that he felt the same way that she did?

He swallowed. "No… it's fair… I mean… I asked you…" He paused, closed his eyes. Helga's stomach churned. This didn't look like it was going the way she hoped. She felt herself stiffen, preparing for hurt. He sighed, opened his eyes and smiled as he met her gaze. "I… I do love you."

Helga just stared… she could hear the "_but" _in his voice.

"…but… now what?"

Helga blinked."What do you mean?" Stupid question… she knew what he meant… but she had no idea how to answer.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

Helga's heart thumped. _That _is what he was worried about? She could have laughed. She figured he'd automatically know that her finally breaking the 'just friends' rule meant that she wanted to _be _with him… she smiled.

"You sure you want me?" she whispered. She pressed a light kiss on his lips, bumped his nose with hers.

"More than anything." His voice was low, sincere. Her toes curled. _This was actually happening._

"Why?"

"Because I love you." His answer sucked the air from her chest.

She kissed him. Butterflies were going ballistic in her stomach. Her heart felt like it was climbing up her throat. She kissed him again. "Yes… I'll be your girlfriend." She laughed against his mouth. "I love you too… Shortman."

She could feel his lips spreading into a grin. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice muffled by her mouth. She pulled back a little, dotted kisses against his lower lip, his chin, his cheek. "As in… I can introduce you as my girlfriend… change our relationship status' on Facebook… proper boyfriend-girlfriend girlfriend?"

She nodded, pressing her forehead into his shoulder, trying not to 'eep' with excitement. "Go to sleep together at night… morning cup of coffee… sacrifice the last bagel… proper boyfriend-girlfriend."

Arnold kissed her. "I didn't want that bagel anyway." He crooned, letting his splayed fingers skim across her skin.

"You're a terrible liar." She gasped, his light touch sending tingles down her legs. The _warmth _that had been building in her belly burst into life again. She felt her legs tighten, squeezing his thighs between hers.

"Hmmmmm, sorry…" His hands roved over her jean-clad ass, gripping at her hips. She just moaned softly in reply. She rolled her hips, pressing herself against his obviously hard cock. The hitch in his breath, the tightening of his fingers… every indication he gave that she turned him on, excited her more.

Her hands found the bottom of his shirt. She spread her fingers out over his stomach, touched the hair beneath his navel, ran a finger around his nipple. His breath was coming hard, his eyes were closed as his hands ran in large circles over her hips, her ass… She gathered his shirt in her fists, tugged it gently upwards until she pulled it over his head, off his arms and dropped it to the floor.

She sat up, looking down at him. His hands snaked out to her stomach, edging beneath her shirt, laying flat against her skin. She placed her hands over his, the thin fabric of her top between them. She arched her back, rocking forward. She could feel the hard length of Arnold's erection pressing against her, feel the damp heat from his palms on her skin. Slowly, she edged her hands upwards. The fabric of her top bunched up as she dragged Arnold's hand with hers. His eyes raked up her, watching as her movement exposed more and more skin.

As the tips of his fingers touched the bottom of her breasts, she heard him hold his breath. His eyes flicked to hers, back to their hands, to her face again… She took her hands from him and leaned forward, urging him to touch her, letting his fingertips slide over the slight swell of her small bust.

She saw his Adams apple bob as he swallowed. His eyes flicked between her face and his hands as he gently ran his fingers up over her breasts. She inhaled, bit her lip. "Oh Jesus Christ." Arnold groaned. She felt her nipples graze against his palms as he cupped her. Her skin was buzzing, her blood was thundering through her veins.

_Just fucking hold me down and touch me already! _She silently screamed. She wriggled on top of him, eliciting a low, thuddering moan from the blonde man beneath her. Her hands hung at her sides, clutching his thighs. "Arnold…" she whimpered, conscious of how high and tremulous her voice was "...please…"

"Fuck." He groaned. He took his hands from her breasts, leaving her skin feeling suddenly cold… he wrapped his arms around her, hefted her up, and over, and pressed her back into the cushions. She groaned as his thighs moved between hers, pushing them wider apart. This was what she had wanted… no caution, just _doing. _His mouth was on her neck, trailing across her collarbones… his hands grasped her ribs, hoisted her higher, bringing her chest in line with his mouth.

Her hands grasped at his back as he wrenched up her top and pressed his lips to her skin. She watched his mouth trace her tan lines, electric buzzes thrilling through her at the touch of his lips on her skin. His mouth moved gently to cover her nipple, his tongue licked at her, traced circles around her.

"Fuuu-u-uck" she keened, her fingers were in his hair, grasping at the back of his neck. His hand was on her other breast, gently, _gently _rolling her hard nipple between his fingers. She looked small and pale beneath his long fingers. She forced her hips backwards and forwards, pushing herself against him, wanting that pressure.

Arnold's mouth explored her skin, his hand tenderly kneaded her flesh. She wanted _more. _She wanted to ride her thighs over his, to hook her legs over his back… but her jeans were too restrictive. She wanted to feel the hair of his legs grating the skin of her thighs, but there was too much cloth in the way. She was hot, throbbing… full of _want._

He was moving against her, matching the slow, hard undulations of her hips. His back was arched, his mouth still sucking, teasing her sensitive skin. She felt feverish.

She forced her hands between their bodies. Her fingers fumbled, snagging on skin as she grazed the backs of fingers down his stomach. Her fingers found the waistband of his jeans… Arnold's mouth and fingers paused on her skin as she groped with his top button.

He groaned as she popped open the buttons, he raised his hips off hers as she tried to push his jeans down, but she couldn't reach. She made an irritated noise as her arms were caught, unable to push his jeans down further than his butt.

He chuckled as he let go of her skin and sat up. His jeans were gathered at his thighs, his boxers barely keeping his obvious excitement contained. She bit her lip. He tugged his jeans down, kicking them off once they got to his knees. He cleared his throat. "I feel very naked." He smiled, looking shy.

"That's the plan." Her voice was hoarse.

He ran his fingers softly over her belly, touching her navel, the top button of _her _fly. "And you?" he asked, his crooked smile making her heart leap. She nodded in reply.

He leaned over to kiss her stomach as he undid her fly. She felt her thigh twitch as the top button popped open, her stomach tensed as he slowly forced the zip down. He nudged his nose into her belly button as she raised her hips, letting him slide her pants down over her ass. She raised her legs, her breath coming hard as he tugged the tight denim from her thighs, smiling when her legs were finally free and he dropped the jeans on the floor.

Arnold's forehead creased… he was kneeling between her legs, almost naked, his dick visibly throbbing in his boxers. He held her ankles in his hands, her legs still raised. Groaning, he placed a kiss to the sole of her foot, before he leaned forward, letting her wrap her legs around his waist as he fell between them.

"I don't know where to start with you." He moaned. His fingers twitched at her top, bunched up as it was beneath her arms. She grinned, leaned up to pull it off, and revelled in his attention when she lay down again.

"You're amazing." He whispered into her skin, biting and kissing gently at her collarbones, her breasts, her ribs. She could feel him holding himself back as he gripped her, trying not to grab her too tight… she wriggled, arched her back, whimpered under his hands.

They rolled slightly to the side, his hand roving across her ass, tracing the line of her panties from her hip, down… down… down… she shook as his fingers brushed at the edge of her. She could feel herself throb, could feel how damp she was. It was too much. She knew she was moving fast, but she didn't care.

She moved her hips back, forcing his fingers to press harder against her. He looked worried. She made a high, insistent noise, a begging noise.

Arnold's chest heaved with his heavy breaths. He watched her face, carefully gauging her reactions. One fingertip tilted, shifted, gently caught the elastic of her panties and pressed beneath it. She gripped at him, the arm around his neck pulling him close. Her leg tightened, raised higher, allowing him more room… she _needed _him to touch her.

Her eyes squeezed shut, her hips moved involuntarily. He ran his finger as far to the front of her as he could reach, before parting her gently and pushing inside the folds of her. She could feel how wet she was, could feel that she was swollen. She could hear Arnold's breath shaking. She felt like she should be self-conscious, or something… having his fingers on her like this… but she just didn't… it felt too good to care about being modest.

"Jesus… fuck, Helga…" He pulled his fingers from her, making her squirm in protest. He rolled further onto his side, shunting her across a little, before sliding his hand down her inner thigh. He swore again as he pushed aside her panties with his thumb, and pressed the pads of his fingers against her. This time, he could reach all of her, and he traced his finger to the top of her, before pressing down gently.

Helga swore, bit her lip, and whimpered as Arnold's fingers found her clit. She sucked air in through her teeth as he pressed gently down on her. Her legs were shaking.

"Christ, baby…" Arnold's voice was soft, awestruck. "You're so… so fucking wet!" He glided his fingers down further, abandoning her clit momentarily. She waited, breath heaving, knowing what was coming next. Slowly, very slowly, and tenderly, Arnold slid a finger into her. She felt her thighs tense, her breath shake. "Oh god…" Arnold shook along with her. His thumb slipped up to touch her clit again… she started to gasp.

"Arnold…" she gulped, nervous and excited and so sure that the only thing she wanted was him… _now_… "Do you have a condom?"

She heard his sharp intake of breath, and opened her eyes to look at him. He stuttered. "N-no. I… I haven't got… I mean… I didn't think…"

"Do you want to?" she asked, suddenly afraid that this was going to be one of those mood-ruining moments again.

He looked at his hand, his finger buried deep inside her, his thumb rolling gently over her clit, and nodded. "So fucking bad… but we can't risk it…"

She arched her back, pressed herself harder against him hand. "Check my handbag…" she admitted, blushing.

"Now? I mean… here? It isn't too soon?" Arnold stumbled, gazing at her with wide eyes.

She smiled. "Now… here… I want you."

He gulped, nodded, pulled his fingers gently from her and leaned over the edge of sofa to look for her bag. He passed it to her, and she pulled two of the foil packets from a side pocket.

"I don't know what I'm doing." She confessed, holding the condoms up, turning them over in her fingers.

He took them from her and tucked them under a pillow. "Not yet." He murmured, before kissing her. He let his hands roam across her, his palms barely brushing her skin as he set her skin on fire with his touch.

He teased her, traced his fingers lightly around her breast, but didn't knead her flesh. He stroked her thighs, her belly, her arms. He pressed his mouth against her skin and told her she was beautiful. Finally, _finally _his fingers trailed down to her underwear, and traced the crease of her through the fabric. The touch made her quiver.

He pulled her underwear aside, and pressed his fingers into the folds of her. She whimpered as he pushed a finger inside her. She could feel how the inside of her clutched at him. She wondered briefly if that was normal, but when Arnold let out a deep breath, and whispered to himself to _calm down…_ She forgot all about being insecure and just let him make her feel good.

She let her hand trail over his stomach as he slowly urged his finger in and out of her. Her fingers followed the hair from his navel to his boxers, before gently brushing over the hard shape of him. She could feel the heat coming off him, his cock jumped at her touch. He sucked a breath in through his teeth.

"You're driving me crazy." He whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek. As he spoke, she felt him push another finger inside her, stretching her a little, filling her.

"Oh my god." She moaned. _Goddamn_.

"Is that OK?" Arnold's lips were at her ear, nuzzling at her lobe. She felt herself clench.

She could only whimper in reply.

"Are you… ready?" Arnold's voice was a cracked whisper.

She opened her eyes, she could feel the heat of the flush on her skin, the building tension at the top of her thighs, the bottom of her belly. She wanted him. "Yes… now…" she whispered. Nervous… but swollen with desire.

He drew back from her, unhooked her legs from his hips as he hooked his fingers in her panties. Drawing them off her legs, his gaze lingered on her. "Fuck… you're beautiful." He breathed, his face awe-struck. "You're perfect…"

She reached for his boxers, tugging them down, watching as the elastic snagged on the end of his hard cock, before sliding free. He was long, dark, pulsing… she bit her lip, pushed his boxers down further. He leaned down, kissed her… she felt the end of him nudge at her thigh… so _hard…_

He kicked his boxers off, she opened her arms, wanting the weight of him on her. God… it felt _amazing. _Naked skin on skin… heat radiated between them, his breath brushed every hair on her skin, sending tiny electric currents down… down… down…

She felt him reach under the pillow, felt her breath catch as he pulled out one of the condoms. He smiled, shy… "Should I…" She nodded… figuring now wasn't the time to learn how to put the things on.

Rolling to the side a little, he tore the pack open, pulled the condom out, and balanced awkwardly on his elbow as he rolled it on. She smiled when he looked up at her, his grin nervous. "You sure?"

She swallowed… nodded… nerves shook her as he shifted on top of her… His fingers slid between her thighs, touched her. She put her arms around his neck, her hands balled into fists. Her eyes held his, scared.

Holding his weight up on one arm, his other hand guided his cock to her pussy. She gasped as he pressed forward. She let out a breath as his head slid between her lips, slowly pushing into her. She could feel the pressure, the resistance of her muscles as he gradually rocked his hips forward, pushing himself deeper.

"Tell me if it hurts?" He whispered, his eyes on her, watching her face. She nodded, unable to form words.

_Oh my god… this feels… insane… _She gasped as his head nudged the end of her. It kinda hurt, an uncomfortable feeling… but _so good _at the same time. She arched her back, raised her legs around him.

"Oh god." Arnold's mouth covered hers. His hips shifted, drawing his cock from her, before edging it back in. She clutched at his neck, ran her hands down his back, grabbed his hips.

Arnold stopped, grinned… "This is hard…" he groaned. "You're _so tight._"

Helga blushed, embarrassed, pleased… She felt the head of him bump the inside of her as she rolled her hips. She was so close! The skin of her, from her thighs to her navel, felt tight, hot… her muscles were quivering. Her clit was dying to be touched. She wriggled beneath him, drawing a moan from him… "Touch me?" she whispered, desperate to come.

He grinned, sat back. She gasped as he drew his knees forward, changing the angle so that he hit the front of her. She screwed her eyes shut. "Oh god Arnold… Please… I'm so close!" Her body was quivering, her hips squirming against the cushions. She had never felt so frustrated in her life. She _so _wanted to reach down and touch herself… the pressure against her was _amazing. _She felt full, uncomfortable… almost like she needed to pee, but so different.

One of his hands fell on her breast, squeezing gently at her. The thumb of the other pushed between her lips and pressed down on her clit. She shuddered.

_Fuck… fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…_

His thumb made small circles, just at the top of her. His fingers gripped at her, tangled in her trimmed hair. She felt like she was crawling out of her skin. She could feel her thighs tightening, squeezing around his hips as he kneeled above her. Her ass wasn't even on the sofa, her entire body was taut, waiting… _so close… _

His hips were shifting back and forth, just running an inch in and out of her… the head of him pressing against the inside of her… "Down… a little…" she gasped, and then gasped again as his thumb shifted down, just a fraction, but just enough to touch where she was the most sensitive. Her body tensed, shuddered… she felt herself stop, her breath catch, everything slowed down before she exploded.

His thumb kept rolling as she shook, a long, trembling "Fuu-u-u-u-u-uuuu-ck" escaping her lips as her body writhed. His other hand came to her hip, holding her to him as her hips raised. She swore, her head back, her thighs juddering against him. She heard Arnold swear before he pushed deeper inside her, his hands clutching harder at her breast, her pussy… His thumb stilled, his back arched as he leaned forward to rest his head on her chest. She could feel his cock pulsing inside her, feel his hands trembling against her skin.

Her skin throbbed with her heartbeat, her throat was dry. "Wow…" she groaned, running her fingers through his hair.

"Fuck." Arnold mouthed against her skin. "I didn't think I was going to be able to hold on… that was… fuck…" he lifted his head. "Are you OK?"

Helga laughed, light headed. "No, actually… I feel like my legs might fall off…" She laughed again at Arnold's furrowed brow. "That was fucking amazing…" she said softly, her hands stroking his cheek.

"I was so nervous." He admitted, kissing the flat plain between her breasts, laying his cheek on her stomach.

"Me too… but I'm glad we did it…" she grinned. She _was_ glad. She was glowing and giggly and giddy. She and Arnold were together… he loved her, wanted to be with her. She trusted him… she loved him.

"I love you, Pataki." Arnold mumbled, pressing kisses to her skin.

Her stomach curled into a little ball of _happy. _She could have wept…

"Oh god Arnold… I love you."


	33. Epilouge

Epilogue:

Arnold's hands were sweaty as he watched her walk down the aisle towards him. She was smiling, nervous… her fingers clutched around her bouquet, and her hair swept up into some fancy up-do.

Gerald winked at him. "Showtime!" he grinned, looking as relaxed and confident as ever.

_God she looks beautiful._

Arnold stared at Helga as she slowly came closer. She gave him a shy smile, before moving to stand at the other side of the altar. He couldn't take his eyes off her. His heart was thumping, nerves were roiling in his stomach.

Phoebe made her way down the aisle next, gripping her father's arm, beaming from ear to ear. She looked gorgeous too, in her strapless white dress… but Arnold barely noticed, preferring to gaze at his girlfriend instead.

Helga smiled at him, nodding towards Phoebes, blushing when he didn't dote on the bride, but just grinned at the bridesmaid. He tried to pay attention to what was going on around him, but kept feeling his eyes being drawn back to that girl… the girl he loved… the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

_Please let her say yes._

After Phoebe handed Helga her bouquet, and they all turned to face the celebrant, Arnold let his mind wander.

This past year-and-a-bit had been amazing. It had been hard, sure… what with finding out about his parents, trying to get the house in order… getting used to living with his girlfriend…

She had been his rock. She was the one who made him realise that he didn't have to answer to anyone, that his decision about whether to contact his parents or not was _his _decision… that he could put it off, or change his mind, as much as he wanted. He loved her for that, for helping him sort his shit out.

She was helping him sort the house out, too. She hung wallpaper and fixed skirting boards, changed light bulbs and worked in the garden. She had moved in two moths after they had first had sex… that incredible, awkward afternoon on the sofa. She didn't spend a night at her own place after that day, so they figured it was just logical for her to move her stuff in.

It was hard, granted. They fought… over stupid shit… like what colour to paint walls, or what they would have for dinner. The fought over other things too… like whether they were right for each other, or if they were just doomed. Those fights, however, were normally just Helga being scared… reverting back to her old fight-or-flight ways. He knew how to handle them, and they were getting less and less frequent.

But asides from that… their life was awesome.

Helga's novel was going to print, she was going to be a _published author._ Arnold grinned to himself… the celebratory sex after getting _that _news had been amazing. He shook himself… getting a boner at Gerald's wedding probably wasn't the best idea…

His eyes slipped to Helga, she was staring at the celebrant with that distant look in her eyes… he wondered what she was thinking about. Probably the dogs… or the kittens…

His house was back to being a menagerie. They had started 'fostering' for the local animal welfare groups when Helga had come home with a stray kitten one day, and the local pound was too full to take it. At the moment they had two dogs, a puppy, a mother cat with a litter of seven kittens, and a rabbit… and Dot, of course.

He loved it.

He loved coming home at the end of the day. Often, he left work a few minutes early so that he could meet Helga and they could go home together. He loved Fridays, when they normally grabbed Thai and headed over to Gerald's. He loved feeling established, secure. He loved how Helga slept in the nude. He loved bringing her cups of tea when she was writing. He loved that they read books together, her head on his chest as they read the same page, or them reading out loud to each other. He loved seeing her in print ads when she did her occasional modelling jobs. He loved having her on his arm, he loved her skin, her mouth, her hair… He loved her so fucking much.

_Please let her say yes._

…

"I missed you." Helga grabbed his jacket by the lapels and kissed him.

He grinned, falling against her, pinning her to the wall in the small service corridor that branched off the ballroom. The drone of voices and the clinking of glasses echoed through from the reception.

"You missed me?" he asked, bending down to kiss her neck, knowing that it drove her crazy. "But we've been together all afternoon!"

She groaned. Her head hit the wall as she let it fall back. "Gah… you know what I mean. Last night was the first time we've slept apart! Then the stress of the hens night and the wedding… then all the photos and shit." Her fingers came up to touch his face. "I just want to go home."

"You haven't had fun?" He asked, bringing his fingers up to trace the spaghetti straps of her blue satin dress.

She laughed. "The fun parts about to begin!" she giggled, gasping a little as he took her earlobe between his lips. "Oh Jesus…" she swallowed. "It's booze and cake time now, yes?"

"Speeches first." He whispered, grinning when his breath on her neck made her moan.

"How much time do you think we have?" She asked, breathless.

"Ten or fifteen minutes?" he mumbled, fascinated by how he could feel her pulse on his lips.

She pulled away. He stared at her as she made her way down the hall. "C'mon!" she grinned as she turned to find him just gazing after her. She held out her hand.

"This one." She giggled, pulling open a door to find a little storage room. Chairs stacked up against one wall, a tea trolley stacked with packs of paper towels in a corner.

"What are we doing?" Arnold was confused… hopeful, but confused.

"Putting your cock in my mouth."

Her simple statement knocked the breath out of him. She wasn't much for 'dirty talk'… so when she came out with a statement like that, it blew him away.

She pulled him inside, closed the door behind them. His mouth searched hers as she backed him up against the wall. She tugged at his shirt, yanking it from where it was tucked into his pants. Her manicured nails raked at his stomach, slid down to undo his tuxedo pants. He shuddered as her hand encircled his already-hard cock.

"Yes?" She asked, her blue eyes sparkling.

"Yes." He gasped, amazed he could speak at all.

She grinned as she dropped to her knees. His hands itched to tangle themselves in her hair as she pulled his pants down, but he knew he couldn't mess up her fancy hair. He swore when she finally wrapped her lips around him, no ceremony, no teasing… just a straightforward, dirty quickie blowjob in a hotel storage room.

She was full of surprises.

Her tongue held him. She sucked at him as she ran him as far into her mouth as she could, then out again. Her fingers searched, ran down to cup his balls, making him jump. His eyes were screwed shut, wanting to saviour the moment a minute before he looked at her. He knew what was coming.

_Blow job mouth. _Steve hadn't been wrong. Those soft, puffy lips looked amazing around his cock. He didn't have a chance when he looked down at her, his dick being swallowed by her wet, glistening mouth, and her massive blue eyes staring up into his. He always came sooner than he wanted to, watching her like that.

He groaned, knowing they didn't have much time, wanting to keep it going forever. She licked at the bottom of his head, made him jump. He looked down…

Yup, it never failed. He could see her smiling around his cock. He could _see _her enjoying having his cock in her mouth. Her eyes met his… he repeated those words to himself. _My cock's in her mouth._

"Fuck… baby… I'm gonna come…" She just smiled wider at him, nodded a little as her mouth worked at him. Fuck… she was even going to swallow. What the hell did he ever do to deserve her?

He swore as he came, balling his hands into fists at his side, gazing into those mesmerising eyes…

She laughed as she tidied him up. Ripping one of the paper towels out of its pack to dab him dry, tucking his shirt back into his pants, carefully doing up his fly. She giggled when he grabbed her, snuggled into his chest.

"Fuck I love you… Do you have _any _idea?" he asked, his heart still thumping hard against his ribs.

"I might have an inkling." She teased, pleased with herself.

"Marry me." He breathed, taking himself by surprise.

Her face instantly fell. "Don't." she frowned.

_Oops… _"No?" He asked, feigning innocence.

"It's not a nice thing to joke about." She sighed, looking at once both peeved and sad.

"OK." He smiled, kissing her nose. "I'm sorry…" she just stared at him. "Am I forgiven?"

She sighed, smiled. "I suppose so. Just watch yourself."

He smiled, barely able to contain himself… "We better be getting back."

…

Arnold was slightly drunk when Gerald and Phoebe got up to have their first dance as man and woman.

He had read his speech (polite, funny, appropriate) eaten his dinner, drunk more than his fair share of champagne… he was nervous. So nervous he though he'd throw up.

He hadn't even been able to talk to Helga, seated at she was next to Phoebe, just out of comfortable talking range.

She came over to sit next to him, perching on the edge of Gerald's empty chair. "We gotta dance, yeah?" She sighed, leaning her head on Arnold's shoulder.

"Yup."

"I'm so full… I'm going to sleep for a week after this… and invest in a mumu."

Arnold giggled. "My little fatty. I may be drunk."

She laughed, stood, and grabbed his arm. "This I gotta see. C'mon, boozey. Lets Dance."

They waltzed out onto the dance floor, laughing, swapping partners. They were both awful, but then, so was everyone else. Except Phoebe's father, surprisingly. He was pretty light on his feet.

He danced with Phoebe, her mother, Gerald's mother, Timberly, Patty, Rhonda and a whole other host of girls. He watched her dance with almost all the men there, laughing and chatting and sparkling, but her eyes always seeking him out, reserving that little couples-only smile for him.

_Fuck _he loved her.

She fell into his arms when she was finally returned to him. Leaning heavily against his chest. "I am so glad Phoebe chose flats." She sighed sleepily, her cheek against his collar.

They swayed together, the music slower now. There was glitter on the back of her neck. He had no idea where that came from.

_I'm, I'm so in love with you__  
__Whatever you want to do__  
__Is alright with me__  
__'Cause you make me feel, so brand new__  
__And I want to spend my life with you_

Arnold felt his stomach clench… there was _no way _he would ever get a more perfect moment than this.

"Marry me." He breathed.

He felt her stiffen, she turned to look at him, her forehead furrowed, confused. "I said not to joke about that."

"I'm not joking." He felt himself smile, despite the nerves in his stomach. He wanted this so badly.

"You're drunk." She accused as her eyes searched his face.

He nodded. "That's true…" His hand left her back and slipped into his jacket pocket, grasped the little leather box. Her eyes widened as he brought it up. "But I was sober when I chose this…"

He stepped back from her, dropped to one knee. He opened the box and held it up, his eyes on hers. Her hands fluttered to her throat, her face went white. He was conscious of the entire room stopping to watch them. He heard Gerald's chuckle.

He knew what she was seeing. An antique, art deco white gold setting, with an asscher cut pink diamond in the middle, surrounded by white diamonds.

"Helga G. Pataki..." He smiled. "My sun-and-stars..." She smiled at that. _She's going to say yes!_

"… Will you marry me?"

She opened her mouth, closed it again. Nodded.

He grinned. "Yes?" he whispered.

"Yes!" She whispered back.

_Yes! Yes yes yes!_

He took the ring from the box and pushed it on to her finger. The perfect size. _Thank you, Phoebe. _His hands were shaking, _her _hands were shaking.

The room exploded into applause as he stood to gather her in his arms and kiss her.

_We're going to get married!_


End file.
